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

Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!

Follow, rate, and review Bite at a Time Books where we read you your favorite classics, one bite at a time. Available wherever you listen to podcasts.

Check out our website, or join our Facebook Group!

Get exclusive Behind the Scenes content on our YouTube!

We are now part of the Bite at a Time Books Productions network!

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story wherever you listen to podcasts.

Follow us on all the socials: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook - TikTok

Follow Bree at: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook

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

Take it chapter by chapter, one bite at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb.

Take it word for word, like by line.

One bite at a time.

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

If you want to know what's coming next and vote on upcoming books, sign up for our newsletter@byetatimebooks.com.

You'll also find our new T shirts in the shop, including podcast shirts and quote shirts from your favorite classic novels.

Be sure to follow my show on your favorite podcast platform so you get all the new episodes.

You can find most of our links in the show notes, but also our website, Bytetimebooks.com includes all of the links for our show, including to our patreon to support the show, and YouTube, where we have special behind the narration of the episodes.

We're part of the bite at a Time books Productions network.

If you'd also like to hear what inspired your favorite classic authors to write their novels and what was going on in the world at the time, check out the Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story podcast.

Wherever you listen to podcasts, please note while we try to keep the text as close to the original as possible, some words have been changed to honor the marginalized communities who've identified the words as harmful and to stay in alignment with Bite at a Time book's brand values.

Today we'll be continuing little Women by Louisa May Alcott three the Lawrence Boy Joe.

Joe, where are you?

Cried Meg at the foot of the Garrett stairs.

Here, answered a husky voice from above, and running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the air of redcliffe wrapped up in a comforter on an old three legged sofa by the sunny window.

This was Jo's favorite refuge in here.

She loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived nearby and didn't mind her a particle.

As Meg appeared scrabble whisked into his hole, Joe shook the tears off her cheeks and waited to hear the news.

Such fun.

Only see a regular note of invitation from Mrs.

Gardiner for tomorrow night, cried Meg, waving the precious paper and then proceeding to read it with girlish delight.

Mrs.

Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a little dance on New Year's Eve.

Marmie is willing we should go now.

What shall it wear?

What's the use of asking that when you know we shall wear our poplins?

Because we haven't got anything else, answered Joe with her mouthful.

If I only had a silk, sighed Meg.

Mother says I may when I'm 18.

Perhaps, but two years is an everlasting time to wait.

I'm sure our pops look like silk and they're nice enough for us.

Yours is as good as new.

But I forgot the burn and the tear in mine.

Whatever shall I do?

The burn shows badly, and I can't take any out.

You must sit still all you can and keep your back out of sight.

The front is all right.

I shall have a new ribbon for my hair, and Marmi will lend me her little pearl pin.

And my new slippers are lovely.

And my gloves will do, though they aren't as nice as I'd like.

Mine are spoiled with lemonade, and I can't get any new ones.

So I shall have to go without, said Joe, who never troubled herself much about dress.

You must have gloves, or I won't go, cried Meg decidedly.

Gloves are more important than anything else.

You can't dance without them, and if you don't, I should be so mortified.

Then I'll stay still.

I don't care much for company dancing.

It's no fun to go sailing round.

I like to fly about and cut capers.

You can't ask Mother for new ones.

They're so expensive.

And you're so careless.

She said when you spoiled the others that she shouldn't get you anymore this winter.

Can't you make them do?

Asked Meg anxiously.

I can hold them crumpled up in my hand so no one will know how stained they are.

That's all I can do.

No, I'll tell you how we can manage each.

Wear one good one and carry a bad one.

Don't you see your hands are bigger than mine?

And you'll stretch my glove dreadfully.

Began Meg, whose gloves were a tender point with her.

Then I'll go without.

I don't care what people say, cried Joe, taking up her book.

You may have it, you may, only don't stain it.

And do behave nicely.

Don't put your hands behind you, or stare or say Christopher Columbus, will you?

Don't worry about me.

I'll be as prim as I can and not get into any scrapes if I can help it.

Now go and answer your note and let me finish this splendid story.

So Meg went away to accept with thanks, look over her dress and sing blithely as she did up her one realace frill, while Joe finished her story, her four apples, and had a game of romps with scrabble.

On New Year's Eve the parlor was deserted, for the two younger girls played dressing maids, and the two elder were absorbed in the all important business of getting ready for the party.

Simple as the toilets were.

There was a great deal of running up and down, laughing and talking, and at one time a strong smell of burnt hair pervaded the house.

Meg wanted a few curls about her face, and Joe undertook to pinch the papered locks with a pair of hot tongs.

They had a smoke like that?

Asked Beth from her perch on the bed.

It's the dampness drying, replied Joe.

What a queer smell.

It's like burnt feathers.

Observed Amy, smoothing her own pretty curls with a superior air.

There.

Now I'll take off the papers and you'll see a cloud of little ringlets, said Joe, putting down the tongs.

She did take off the papers, but no cloud of ringlets appeared, for the hair came with the papers, and the horrified hairdresser laid a row of little scorched bundles on the bureau before her.

What have you done?

I'm spoiled.

I can't go.

My hair.

Oh, my hair.

Wailed Meg, looking with despair at the uneven frizzle on her forehead.

Just my luck.

You shouldn't have asked me to do it.

I always spoil everything.

I'm so sorry.

But the tongs were too hot and so I've made a mess, groaned poor Joe, regarding the black pancakes with tears of regret.

It isn't spoiled.

Just frizzle it and tie your ribbon so the ends come on your forehead a bit and it will look like the last fashion I've seen many girls do it.

So said Amy consolingly.

Serves me right for trying to be fine.

I wish I'd let my hair alone.

Cried Meg petulantly.

So do I.

It was so smooth and pretty.

But it will soon grow out again, said Beth, coming to kiss and comfort the shorn sheep.

After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last, and by the united exertions of the family jo's hair was got up and her dress on.

They looked very well in their simple suits.

Meg in silvery drab with a blue velvet snood lace frills and the pearl pin jo in maroon with a stiff gentlemanly linen collar and a white chrysanthemum or two for her only ornament each put on one nice light glove and carried one soiled one and all pronounced the effect quite easy and fine.

Meg's high heeled slippers are very tight and hurt her, though she would not own it.

And Joe's 19 hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable.

But dear me, let us be elegant or die.

Have a good time, dearies, said Mrs.

March, as the sisters went daintily down the walk.

Don't eat much supper and come away at eleven when I send Hannah for you.

As the gate clashed behind them, a voice cried from a window girls, girls.

Have you both got nice pocket handkerchiefs?

Yes, Spandy nice and Meg has cologne on hers.

Cried Joe, adding with a laugh as they went on, I do believe Marmi would ask that if we were all running away from an earthquake.

It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for a real lady.

Is always known by neat boots, gloves and handkerchief, replied Meg, who had a good many little aristocratic tastes of her own.

Now don't forget to keep the bad breath out of sight.

Joe, is my sash right?

And does my hair look very bad?

Said Meg, as she turned from the glass in Mrs.

Gardner's dressing room after a prolonged prank.

I know I shall forget.

If you see me doing anything wrong, just remind me by a wink, will you?

Returned Joe, giving her collar a twitch and her head a hasty brush.

No winking, isn't, ladylike?

I'll lift my eyebrows if anything is wrong, and nod if you're all right.

Now, hold your shoulders straight and take short steps, and don't shake hands.

If you're introduced to anyone, it isn't the thing.

How do you learn all the proper ways?

I never can.

Isn't that music gay down they went, feeling a trifle timid, for they seldom went to parties, and informal as this little gathering was, it was an event to them.

Mrs.

Gardiner, a stately old lady, greeted them kindly and handed them over to the eldest of her six daughters.

Meg knew Sally and was at ease very soon, but Jo, who didn't care much for girls or girlish gossip, stood about with her back carefully against the wall and felt as much out of place as a cult in a flower garden.

Half a dozen Jovial lads were talking about skates in another part of the room, and she longed to go and join them, for skating was one of the joys of her life.

She telegraphed her wish to Meg, but the eyebrows went up so alarmingly that she dared not stir.

No one came to talk to her, and one by one the group near her dwindled away till she was left alone.

She could not roam about and amuse herself, for the burnt breath would show.

So she stared at people rather forlornly till the dancing began.

Meg was asked at once, and the tight slippers tripped about so briskly that none would have guessed the pain their wearers suffered.

Smilingly, Joe saw a big red headed youth approaching her corner, and fearing he meant to engage her, she slipped into a curtained recess, intending to peep and enjoy herself in peace.

Unfortunately, another bashful person had chosen the same refuge, for as the curtain fell behind her, she found herself face to face with the Lawrence boy near me.

I didn't know anyone was here, stammered Joe, preparing to back out as speedily as she had bounced in.

But the boy laughed and said pleasantly though he looked a little startled, don't mind me.

Stay if you like.

Shant I disturb you?

Not a bit.

I only came here because I don't know many people and felt rather strange at first, you know.

So did I.

Don't go away, please, unless you'd rather.

The boy sat down again and looked at his pumps.

Till Joe said, trying to be polite and easy, I think I've had the pleasure of seeing you before.

You live near us, don't you?

Next door.

And he looked up and laughed outright, for Joe's prim manner was rather funny when he remembered how they had chatted about cricket when he brought the cat home.

That put Joe at her ease, and she laughed too, as she said in her heartiest way.

We did have such a good time over your nice Christmas present.

Grandpa sent it, but you put it into his head, didn't you?

Now.

How is your cat, Miss March?

Asked the boy, trying to look sober while his black eyes shone with fun nicely.

Thank you, Mr.

Lawrence, but I am not Miss March.

I'm only Joe, returned the young lady.

I'm not Mr.

Lawrence.

I'm only Lori.

Lori Lawrence.

What an odd name.

My first name is Theodore, but I don't like it, for the fellows called me Dora, so I made them say Lori instead.

I hate my name too.

So sentimental.

I wish everyone would say Joe instead of Josephine.

How did you make the boy stop calling you Dora?

I thrashed him.

I can't thrash Aunt March, so I suppose I shall have to bear it.

And Joe resigned herself with a sigh.

Don't you like to dance, Miss Joe?

Asked Lori, looking as if he thought the name suited her.

I like it well enough if there's plenty of room and everyone is lively.

In a place like this, I'm sure to upset something, tread on people's toes or do something dreadful.

So I keep out of mischief and let Meg sail about.

Don't you dance?

Sometimes.

You see, I've been abroad a good many years and haven't been into company enough yet to know how you do things here abroad.

Cried Joe.

Oh, tell me about it.

I love dearly to hear people describe their travels.

Lori didn't seem to know where to begin.

But Joe's eager question soon set him going, and he told her how he had been at school in Vivi, where the boys never wore hats and had a fleet of boats on the lake, and for holiday fun went walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers.

I wish I'd been there.

Cried Joe.

Did you go to Paris?

We spent last winter there.

Can you talk French?

We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vivi.

Who say some?

I can read it but can't pronounce guel namasette jun de Moiselle eles panfluzioles, said Lori.

Good naturedly.

How nicely you do it.

Let me see, you said, who is the young lady in the pretty slippers?

Didn't you?

We mademoiselle it's.

My sister Margaret.

And you knew it was.

Do you think she is pretty?

Yes.

She makes me think of the German girls.

She looks so fresh and quiet and dances like a lady.

Joe quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister and stored it up to repeat to Meg both peeped and criticized and chatted till they felt like old acquaintances.

Lori's bashfulness soon wore off, for Joe's gentlemanly demeanor amused and set him at his ease.

And Jo was her merry self again, because her dress was forgotten and nobody lifted their eyebrows at her.

She liked the Lawrence boy better than ever and took several good looks at him so that she might describe him to the girls, for they had no brothers, very few male cousins, and boys were almost unknown creatures to them.

Curly black hair, brown skin, big black eyes, handsome nose, fine teeth, small hands and feet taller than I am.

Very polite for a boy, and altogether jolly.

Wonder how old he is.

It was on the tip of Joe's tongue to ask, but she checked herself in time and with unusual tact, tried to find out in a roundabout way.

I suppose you're going to college soon.

I see you pegging away at your books.

No, I mean studying hard.

And Joe blushed at the dreadful pegging which had escaped her.

Lori smiled, but didn't seem shocked and answered with a shrug, not for a year or two.

I won't go before 17 anyway.

Aren't you but 15?

Asked Joe, looking at the tall lad, whom she had imagined.

17 already.

16 next month.

How I wish I was going to college.

You don't look as if you liked it.

I hate it.

Nothing but grinding or skylarking.

And I don't like the way fellows do either in this country.

What do you like?

To live in Italy, and to enjoy myself in my own way.

Joe wanted very much to ask what his own way was, but his black brows looked rather threatening as he knit them.

So she changed the subject by saying, as her foot kept time, that's a splendid POCA.

Why don't you go and try it?

If you'll come too, he answered with a gallant little bow.

I can't, for I told Meg I wouldn't because there joe stopped and looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh.

Because what?

Asked Lori curiously.

You won't tell?

Never.

Well, I had a bad trick of standing before the fire, and so I burned my frocks, and I scorch this one, and though it's nicely mended, it shows.

And Meg told me to keep still so no one would see it.

You may laugh if you want to.

It is funny, I know, but Lori didn't laugh.

He only looked down a minute, and the expression of his face puzzled Joe when he said very gently, never mind that.

I'll tell you how we can manage.

There's a long hall out there, and we can dance grandly, and no one will see us.

Please come.

Joe thanked him and gladly went, wishing she had two neat gloves when she saw the nice pearl colored ones her partner wore.

The hall was empty, and they had a grand POCA, for Lori danced well and taught her the German step which delighted Joe, being full of swing and spring.

When the music stopped, they sat down on the stairs to get their breath, and Lori was in the midst of an account of a student's festival at Heidelberg when Meg appeared in search of her sister.

She beckoned, and Joe reluctantly followed her into a sideroom, where she found her on a sofa, holding her foot and looking pale.

I've sprained my ankle.

That stupid high heel turned and gave me a sad wrench.

It aches so I can hardly stand, and I don't know how I'm ever going to get home, she said, rocking to and fro in pain.

I knew you'd hurt your feet with those silly shoes.

I'm sorry, but I don't see what you can do except get a carriage or stay here all night, answered Joe softly, rubbing the poor ankle as she spoke.

I can't have a carriage without its costing ever so much.

I dare say I can't get one at all, for most people come in their own, and it's a long way to the stable and no one to send.

I'll go.

No, indeed.

It's past nine and dark is Egypt.

I can't stop here, for the house is full.

Sally has some girls staying with her.

I'll rest till Hannah comes and then do the best I can.

I'll ask Lori.

He'll go, said Joe, looking relieved as the idea occurred to her mercy.

No, don't ask or tell anyone.

Get me my rubbers and put these slippers with our things.

I can't dance anymore.

But as soon as supper is over, watch for Hannah, and tell me the minute she comes.

They're going out to supper now.

I'll stay with you.

I'd rather no, dear.

Run along and bring me some coffee.

I'm so tired I can't stir.

So Mag reclined with rubbers well hidden, and Jo went blundering away to the dining room, which she found after going into a china closet and opening the door of a room where old Mr.

Gardiner was taking a little private refreshment.

Making a dart at the table, she secured the coffee, which she immediately spilt, thereby making the front of her dress as bad as the back.

Oh, dear, what a blunderbuss I am.

Exclaimed Joe, finishing Meg's glove by scrubbing her gown with it.

Can I help you?

Said a friendly voice, and there was Lori, with a full cup in one hand and a plate of ice in the other.

I was trying to get something for Meg, who's very tired, and someone shook me.

And here I am in an ice state, answered Joe, glancing dismally from the stained skirt to the coffee colored glove.

Too bad.

I was looking for someone to give this to.

May I take it to your sister?

Oh, thank you.

I'll show you where she is.

I don't offer to take it myself, for I should only get into another scrape if I did.

Joe led the way, and, as if used to waiting on ladies, lori drew up a little table, brought a second installment of coffee and ice for Joe, and was so obliging that even particular Meg pronounced him a nice boy.

They had a merry time over the bon bonds and mottos, and were in the midst of a quiet game of buzz with two or three other young people who had strayed in when hannah appeared, meg forgot her foot and rose so quickly that she was forced to catch hold of Joe with an exclamation of pain.

Hush, don't say anything, she whispered, adding aloud, it's nothing.

I turned my foot a little, that's all, and limped upstairs to put her things on.

Hannah scolded.

Meg cried, and Joe was at her wits end till she decided to take things into her own hands.

Slipping out, she ran down and finding a servant, asked if he could get her a carriage.

It happens to be a hired waiter who knew nothing about the neighborhood.

And Joe was looking round for help when Lori, who had heard what she said, came up and offered his grandfather's carriage, which had just come for him.

He said, It's so early, you can't mean to go yet, began Joe, looking relieved, but hesitating to accept the offer.

I always go early.

I do, truly.

Please let me take you home.

It's all on my way, you know.

And it rains, they say.

That settled it.

And telling him of Meg's mishap, joe gratefully accepted and rushed up to bring down the rest of the party.

Hannah hated rain as much as a cat does, so she made no trouble.

And they rolled away in the luxurious closed carriage.

Feeling very festive and elegant, lori went on the box so Meg could keep her foot up, and the girls talked over their party in freedom.

I had a capital time.

Did you?

Asked Joe, rumpling up her hair and making herself comfortable.

Yes, till I hurt myself.

Sally's friend, Annie Moffat, took a fancy to me and asked me to come and spend a week with her when Sally does.

She's going in the spring when the opera comes.

And it will be perfectly splendid if Mother only lets me go, answered Meg, cheering up at the thought.

I saw you dancing with the red headed man I ran away from.

Was he nice?

Oh, very.

His hair is auburn, not red, and he was very polite and I had a delicious redawa with him.

He looked like a grasshopper in a fit.

When he did the new step, Lori and I couldn't help laughing.

Did you hear us?

No, but it was very rude.

What were you about all that time hidden away there?

Joe told her adventures, and by the time she had finished, they were at home with many thanks.

They said goodnight and crept in, hoping to disturb no one.

But the instant their door creaked, two little nightcaps bobbed up and two sleepy but eager voices cried out, tell about the party.

Tell about the party.

With what Meg called a great want of manners, joet saved some bonbons for the little girls and they soon subsided after hearing the most thrilling events of the evening.

I declare, it really seems like being a fine young lady to come home from the party in a carriage and sit in my dressing gown with a maid to wait on me, said Meg, as Joe bound up her foot with Arnica and brushed her hair.

I don't believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our burnt hair, old gowns, one glove apiece and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we're silly enough to wear them.

And I think Joe was quite right.

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.

Don't forget to sign up for our newsletter at Bite at a Timebooks.com and check out the shop.

You can check out the show notes or our website, byteathimebooks.com for the rest of the links for our show.

We'd love to hear from you on social media as well.

Moon.

Take a look in the book and let's see what we can find.