Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the seventeenth chapter of Little Women.

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San the book and let's see what we can find.

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My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

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Today we'll be continuing Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, 17 little Faithful for a week.

The amount of virtue in the old house would have supplied the neighborhood.

It was really amazing, for everyone seemed in a heavenly frame of mind, and self denial was all the fashion.

Relieved of their first anxiety about their father, the girls insensibly relaxed their praiseworthy efforts a little and began to fall back into the old ways.

They did not forget their motto, but hoping and keeping busy seemed to grow easier, and after such tremendous exertions, they felt that endeavor deserved a holiday and gave it a good many.

Joe caught a bad cold through neglect to cover the shorn head enough and was ordered to stay at home till she was better, for Aunt March didn't like to hear people read with colds in their heads.

Joe liked this, and after an energetic rummage from Garrett to Seller, subsided on the sofa to nurse her cold with our Seneca and Books, Amy found that housework and art did not go well together and returned to her mud pies.

Meg went daily to her pupils and sewed, or thought she did at home, but much time was spent in writing long letters to her mother or reading the Washington Dispatches over and over.

Beth kept on with only slight relapses in the idleness or grieving.

All the little duties were faithfully done each day, and many of her sisters also, for they were forgetful, and the house seemed like a clock whose pendulum was gone a visiting.

When her heart got heavy with longings for Mother or fierce for Father, she went away into a certain closet, hid her face in the folds of a certain dear old gown and made her little moan and prayed her little prayer quietly by herself.

Nobody knew what cheered her up after a sober fit, but everyone felt how sweet and helpful Beth was and fell into a way of going to her for comfort or advice in their small affairs.

All were unconscious that this experience was a test of character and when the first excitement was over, felt that they had done well and deserved praise.

So they did, but their mistake was unceasing to do well, and they learned this lesson through much anxiety and regret.

Meg, I wish you'd go and see the Hummels.

You know Mother told us not to forget them, said Beth ten days after Mrs.

March's departure.

I'm too tired to go this afternoon, replied Meg, rocking comfortably as she sewed.

Can't you, Joe?

Asked Beth.

Too stormy for me with my cold.

I thought it was almost well.

It's well enough for me to go out with Lori, but not well enough to go to the Hummels, said Joe, laughing but looking a little ashamed of her inconsistency.

Why don't you go yourself?

Asked Meg.

I have been every day, but the baby is sick and I don't know what to do for it.

Mrs.

Hummel goes away to work and Locchin takes care of it, but it gets sicker and sicker, and I think you or Hannah ought to go.

Beth spoke earnestly, and Meg promised she would go tomorrow.

Ask Hannah for some nice little mess and take it round Beth.

The air will do you good, said Joe, adding apologetically, I'd go, but I want to finish my writing.

My head aches and I'm tired, so I thought maybe some of you would go, said Beth.

Amy will be in presently and she'll do a rundown for us, suggested Meg.

Well, I'll rest a little and wait for her.

So Beth lay down on the sofa.

The others returned to their work, and the Hummels were forgotten.

An hour passed.

Amy did not come.

Meg went to her room to try on a new dress.

Joe was absorbed in her story, and Hannah was sound asleep before the kitchen fire when Beth quietly put on her hood, filled her baskets with ODS and ends for the poor children and went out into the chilly air with a heavy head and a grieved look in her patient eyes.

It was late when she came back, and no one saw her creep upstairs and shut herself into her mother's room.

Half an hour after, Jo went to Mother's closet for something and there found Beth sitting on the medicine chest, looking very grave with red eyes and a camphor bottle in her hand.

Christopher Columbus.

What's the matter?

Cried Joe, as Beth put out her hand as if to warn her off, and asked quickly, you've had the scarlet fever, haven't you?

Years ago, when Meg did.

Why?

Then I'll tell you.

Oh, Joe, the baby's dead.

What baby?

Mrs.

Hummels.

It died in my lap before she got home.

Cried Beth with a sob.

My poor dear, how dreadful for you.

I ought to have gone, said Jo, taking her sister in her arms as she sat down in her mother's big chair with a remorseful face.

It wasn't dreadful, Joe, only so sad.

I saw in a minute that it was sicker, but Lajin said her mother had gone for a doctor, so I took baby and let Lottie rest.

It seemed asleep, but all of a sudden it gave a little cry and trembled and then lay very still.

I tried to warm its feet, and Lottie gave it some milk, but it didn't stir, and I knew it was dead.

The Honk cried, Dear, what did you do?

I just sat and held it softly till Mrs.

Hummel came with the doctor.

He said it was dead and looked at Heinrich and Mina, who have sore throats, scarlet fever.

Ma'am ought to have called me before, he said grossly.

Mrs.

Hummel told him she was poor and had tried to cure baby herself, but now it was too late, and she could only ask him to help the others and trust to charity for his pay.

He smiled then and was kinder, but it was very sad, and I cried with them till he turned round all of a sudden and told me to go home and take belladonna right away, or I'd have the fever.

No, you won't.

Cried Joe, hugging her close with a frightened look.

Oh, Beth, if you should be sick.

I never could forgive myself.

What shall we do?

Don't be frightened.

I guess I shan't have it badly.

I looked in mother's book and saw that it begins with headache, sore throat and queer feelings like mine, so I did take some belladonna and I feel better, said Beth, laying her cold hands on her hot forehead and trying to look well.

If Mother was only at home.

Exclaimed Joe, seizing the book and feeling that Washington was an immense way off.

She read a page, looked at Beth, felt her head peeped into her throat, and then said gravely, you've been over the baby every day for more than a week and among the others who are going to have it.

So I'm afraid you are going to have it, Beth.

I'll call Hannah.

She knows all about sickness.

Don't let Amy come.

She never had it, and I should hate to give it to her.

Can't you and Meg have it over again?

Asked Beth anxiously.

I guess not.

I don't care if I do.

Serve me right, selfish pig, to let you go and stay writing rubbish myself, muttered joe as she went to consult Hannah.

The good soul was wide awake in a minute and took the lead at once, assuring Joe that there was no need to worry.

Everyone had scarlet fever, and if rightly treated, nobody died.

All of which Joe believed and felt much relieved as they went up to call Meg.

Now, I'll tell you what we'll do, said Hannah, when she had examined and questioned Beth.

We will have Dr.

Bangs just to take a look at you, dear, and see that we start right.

Then we'll send Amy off to Aunt March's for a spell to keep her out of harm's way, and one of you girls can stay at home and muse Beth for a day or two.

I shall stay, of course.

I'm oldest, began Meg, looking anxious and self reproachful.

I shall, because it's my fault she is sick.

I told Mother I'd do the errands, and I haven't, said Joe decidedly.

Which will you have, Beth?

There ain't no need of but one, said Hannah.

Joe, please.

And Beth leaned her head against her sister with a contented look, which effectually settled that point.

I'll go and tell Amy, said Meg, feeling a little hurt, yet rather relieved on the whole, for she did not like nursing, and jo did.

Amy rebelled outright and passionately declared that she had rather have the fever than go to Aunt March.

Meg reasoned, pleaded and commanded, all in vain.

Amy protested that she would not go, and Meg left her in despair to ask Hannah what should be done before she came back.

Lori walked into the parlor to find Amy sobbing with her head in the sofa cushions.

She told her story, expecting to be consoled, but Lori only put his hands in his pockets and walked about the room, whistling softly as he knit his brows in deep thought.

Presently he sat down beside her and said in his most weedlesome tone, now be a sensible little woman and do as they say.

No, don't cry, but hear what a jolly plan I've got.

You go to Aunt March's and I'll come and take you out every day, driving or walking, and we'll have capital times.

Won't that be better than moping here, I don't wish to be sent off as if I was in the way, began Amy in an injured voice.

Bless your heart, child.

It's to keep you well.

You don't want to be sick, do you?

No, I'm sure I don't, but I dare say I shall be, for I've been with Beth all the time.

That's the very reason you ought to go away at once, so that you may escape it.

Change of air and care will keep you well, I dare say.

Or if it does not entirely, you'll have the fever more lightly.

I advise you to be off as soon as you can, for scarlet fever is no joke, miss.

But it's dull, Aunt Marches, and she's so cross, said amy looking rather frightened.

It won't be dull with me popping in every day to tell you how Beth is and take you out gallivanting.

The old lady likes me, and I'll be as sweet as possible to her so she won't peck at us whatever we do.

Will you take me out in the trotting wagon with puck on my honor as a gentleman, and come every single day?

See if I don't?

And bring me back the minute Beth as well.

The identical minute.

And go to the theater.

Truly a dozen theaters, if we may.

Well, I guess I will, said Amy slowly.

Good girl.

Call Meg and tell her you'll give in, said Lori with an approving pat, which annoyed Amy more than the giving in.

Meg and Joe came running down to behold the miracle which had been wrought, and Amy, feeling very precious and self sacrificing, promised to go if the doctor said Beth was going to be ill.

How is the little dear?

Asked Lori, for Beth was his special pet, and he felt more anxious about her than he liked to show.

She's lying down on mother's bed and feels better.

The baby's death troubled her, but I dare say she's only got cold.

Hannah says she thinks so, but she looks worried.

And that makes me fidgety, answered Meg.

What a trying world it is, said Joe, rumpling up her hair in a fretful sort of way.

No sooner do we get out of one trouble than down comes another.

There doesn't seem to be anything to hold on to when mother's gone, so I'm all at sea.

Well, don't make a porcupine of yourself.

It isn't becoming.

Settle your wig, Joe, and tell me if I shall telegraph to your mother or do anything, asked Lori, who never had been reconciled to the loss of his friend's.

One beauty.

That is what troubles me, said Meg.

I think we ought to tell her if Beth is really ill.

But Hannah says we mustn't, for mother can't leave father, and it will only make him anxious.

Beth won't be sick long, and Hannah knows just what to do, and mother said we were to mind her, so I suppose we must, but it doesn't seem quite right to.

Hmm.

Well, I can't say.

Suppose you ask grandfather after the doctor has been.

We will.

Joe, go and get Dr.

Bangs at once.

Commanded meg we can't decide anything till he has been.

Stay where you are, Joe.

I'm errand boy to this establishment, said Lori, taking up his cap.

I'm afraid you're busy, began Meg.

No, I've done my lessons for the day.

Do you study in vacation time?

Asked Joe.

I follow the good example my neighbor set me, was Lori's answer as he swung himself out of the room.

I have great hopes of my boy, observed Joe, watching him fly over the fence with an approving smile.

He does very well for a boy, was Meg's somewhat ungracious answer for the subject did not interest her.

Dr.

Bangs came said Beth had symptoms of the fever, but thought she would have it lightly.

Though he looked sober over the hummel story, amy was ordered off at once and provided with something to ward off danger.

She departed in a great state, with Joe and Lori as escort.

Aunt March received them with her usual hospitality.

What do you want now?

She asked, looking sharply over her spectacles, while the parrot sitting on the back of her chair called out, Go away.

No boys allowed here.

Lori retired to the window, and Joe told her story.

No more than I expected.

If you're allowed to go poking about among poor folks, amy can stay and make herself useful.

If she isn't sick, which I've no doubt she will be.

Looks like it.

Now, don't cry, child.

It worries me to hear people sniff.

Amy was on the point of crying, but Lori slyly pulled the parrot's tail, which caused Polly to utter an astonished croak, and call out, Bless my boots.

In such a funny way that she laughed instead.

What do you hear from your mother?

Asked the old lady gruffly.

Father is much better, replied Joe, trying to keep sober.

Oh, is he?

Well, that won't last long, I fancy.

March never had any stamina, was the cheerful reply.

AHA, never say die.

Take a pinch of snuff.

Goodbye, goodbye, squalled Polly, dancing on her perch and clawing at the old lady's cap as Lori tweaked him in the rear.

Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird.

And Joe, you'd better go at once.

It isn't proper to be godding about so late with a rattle paed boy like.

Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird, cried Polly, tumbling off the chair with a bounce and running to peck the rattle paeded boy, who was shaking with laughter at the last speech.

I don't think I can bear it, but I'll try, thought Amy, as she was left alone with Aunt March.

Get along, you fright.

Screamed Polly, and at that rude speech, Amy could not restrain a sniff.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of Little Women.

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