Music Welcome to Snewscast, a podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by a pretty little Teplow. Tonight, we'll read the next chapter of Good Wives written by Luisa May Alcott titled Surprises. This is also known as the second half of the little women novel and is considered the 43rd chapter as part of that work as a whole. In our last chapter, Joe found herself a drift in a quieter home, struggling to lift her spirits or rekindle her sense of purpose. Though she tries to be useful, her days feel empty until simple comforts, conversations with her parents, small household tasks, and time with Meg and the children begin to study her. Encouraged to write again, Joe pours her heart into a story that unexpectedly resonates with readers. She warmly supports Amy and Lori's news, though it stirs her own longing for connection. Alone in the attic, Joe finds an old note from Professor Bear and holds it close, sensing something quietly beginning. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. your body into the softness of your bed. Now take a of dusk. no one disturbed her. And she used to lie there on Beth's little red pillow,

plannings. the hour of dusk. No one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on Beth's little red pillow, planning stories, dreaming dreams, or thinking tender thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away. Her face looked tired, grave, and rather sad, for tomorrow was her birthday, and she was thinking how fast the years went by, how old she was getting, and how little she seemed to have accomplished. Almost 25, and nothing to show for it. Joe was mistaken in that, there was a good deal to show, and by and by she saw, and was grateful for it. An old maid, that's what I'm to be, a literary spinser, with a pen for a spouse, a family of stories for children, and twenty years hence a morsel of fame perhaps, when, like poor Johnson, I'm old and can't enjoy it. Solitary and can't share it. Independent and don't need it. Well, I needn't be a sour saint nor a selfish sinner. And I dare say old maids are very comfortable when they get used to it, but in their joeside, as if the prospect was not inviting. Its seldom is at first and 30 seems the end of all things to five and twenty. But it's

not so bad as it looks. And one can get on quite happily if one has something in one self to fall back upon. At twenty-five, girls begin to talk about being old maids, but secretly resolve that they will never be? At 30, they say nothing about it, but quietly accept the fact. And, if sensible, console themselves by remembering that they have 20 more useful happy years in which they may be learning to grow old gracefully. Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls. For often very tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns and many silent sacrifices of youth, health, ambition, love itself, make the faded faces beautiful and God's sight. Even the sad Sour Sisters should be kindly dealt with because they have missed the sweetest part of life. If for no other reason, and looking at them with compassion, not contempt, girls in their bloom should remember that they too may miss the blossom time, that rosy cheeks don't last forever, that silver threads will come in the body-brown hair, and that, by and by, kindness and respect will be as sweet as love and admiration now. Gentlemen, which means boys, be courteous to the old maids, no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the radius to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve woman kind, regardless of rank, age, or color. Just recollect the good aunts who have not only lectured and fost, but nursed and petted, too often without thanks. The scrapes they have helped you out of. The tips they have given you from their small store. The stitches the patient old fingers have set for you. The steps the willing old feet have taken, and gratefully pay the dear old ladies the little attentions that women love to receive as long as they live. The bright-eyed girls are quick to see such traits, and will like you all the better for them. And if death, almost the only power that can part mother and son, should rob you of yours, you will be sure to find a tender welcome and maternal cherishing from some aunt Priscilla, who has kept the warmest corner of her lonely old heart for the best Nevy in the world. Joe must have fallen asleep, as I dare say my reader has during this little homily. For suddenly, Laurie's ghosts seem to stand before her. A substantial, lifelike ghost leaning over her with the very look he used to wear when he felt a good deal and didn't like to show it. But, like Jenny in the ballot, she could not think it he, and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped

and kissed her. Then she knew him and flew up crying joyfully, Oh my teddy, oh my teddy!

Dear Joe, you are glad to see me then.

Glad, my blessed boy, words cannot express me. My teddy, dear Joe, you are glad to see me then.

Glad, my blessed boy, words cannot express my gladness. Where's Amy? Your mother's got her down at mechs. We stopped there by the way, and there was no getting my wife out of their clutches. Your what? Joe. For Laurie uttered those two words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him. Oh, the Dickens. Now I've done it. And he looks so guilty that Joe was down upon him like a flash. You've gone and got married! Yes, please, but I never will again. And he went down upon his knees with a penitent clasping of hands and a face full of mischief, mirth, and triumph. Actually married? Very much so, thank you. Mercy on us. What dreadful thing will you do next? And Joe fell into her seat with a gasp. A characteristic but not exactly complementary,

congratulations.

Return. with a gasp. A characteristic but not exactly complimentary congratulation. Return Lori. Still in an object attitude. But beaming with satisfaction. What can you expect? When you take one's breath away creeping in like a burglar and letting cats out of bags like that, get up, you ridiculous boy. Tell me all about it. Not a word unless you let me come in my old place and promise not to barricade. Joe laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day and patted the sofa invitingly as she said in a cordial tone. The old pillow is up-guarret and we don't need it now, so come and fuss Teddy. How How good to hear you say, Teddy. No one ever calls me that but you. And Lori sat down with an air of great content. What does Amy call you? My Lord. That's like her. Well, you look at. And Joe's eyes plainly betrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever. The pillow was gone, but there was a barricade Nevertheless, a natural one raised by time, absence, and change of heart.

Both fill... fade nevertheless, a natural one, raised by time, absence, and change of heart. Both felt it, and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directly, however, for Laurie said, with a vain attempt at dignity, don't I look like a married man in the head of a family? Not a bit, and you never will. You've grown bigger and bonnier, but you are the same scape-crazy as ever. Now really, Joe, you ought to treat me with more respect.

Begin, Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely. How can I, when the mere idea of you married and settled, is so irresistibly funny that I can't Keep sober, answer Joe, smiling all over her face.

So in... funny that I can't keep sober." Answered Joe, smiling all over her face. So infectiously that they had another laugh and then settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasant old function. It's no use you're going out in the cold to get Amy, for they are all coming up presently. I couldn't wait. I wanted to be the one to tell you the grand surprise and have first skim as we used to say when we squabbled about the cream. Of course you did, and spoil your story by beginning at the wrong end. Now, start right and tell me how it all happened. I'm pining to know. Well, I did it to please Amy. Began Laurie, with a twinkle that made Joe exclaim, 5. 1. Amy did it to you. Go on and tell the truth if you can, sir. Now she's beginning to marmit. Isn't it jolly to hear her? Said Lori to the fire. And the fire glowed and sparkled as if it quite agreed. It's all the same, you know. She and I being one. We planned to come home with the carols, a month or more ago, but they suddenly changed their minds and decided to pass another winter in Paris. The grandpa wanted to come home. He went to please me, and I couldn't let him go alone. Neither could I leave Amy. And Mrs. Carol had got English notions about shaperones and such nonsense, and wouldn't let Amy come with us. So I just settled the difficulty by saying, let's be married, and then we can do as we like. Of course you did, you always have things to suit you. Not always. And something in Lori's voice made Joe say hastily, how did you ever get aunt to agree? It was hard work, but between us, we talked her over. For we had heaps of good reasons on our side. There wasn't time to write and ask leave, but you all liked it, had consented to it by and by, and it was only taking time by the fetlock as my wife says.

Aren't we proud of these two words and don't we like to say them?

Interrupted Joe, addressing the fire in her turn, and watching with delight, the happy light

it seemed to kindle in the eyes that had been so tragically gloomy when she saw them last. A trifle, perhaps? She's such a captivating little woman. I can't help being proud of her. Well then, Uncle and Aunt were there to play propriety. We were so absorbed in one another, we were of no mortal use apart, and that charming arrangement would make everything easy all round. So we did it. When? Where? How? As Joe, in a fever of feminine interest and curiosity, for she could not realize it a particle. Six weeks ago, at the American consoles in Paris, a very quiet wedding, of course, for even in our happiness we didn't forget dear little Beth. Joe put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gently smoothed the red pillow, which he remembered well. Why didn't you let us know afterward, as Joe, in a quieter tone, when they had sat quite still a minute. We wanted to surprise you. We thought we were coming directly home at first, but the dear old gentleman, as soon as we were married, found he couldn't be ready under a month, at least, and sent us off to spend our honeymoon wherever we liked. Amy at once called Valrosa a regular honeymoon home, so we went there, and we're as happy as people are but once in their lives. My faith wasn't at love among the roses." Laurie seemed to forget Joe for a minute, and Joe was glad of it for the fact that he told her these things so freely and naturally assured her that he had quite forgiven and forgotten. She tried to draw away her hand, but as if he guessed the thought that prompted the half involuntary impulse, Laurie held it fast and said, with a manly gravity, she had never seen in him before. Joe, dear, I want to say one thing, and then we'll put it by forever. As I told you in my letter, when I wrote that Amy had been so kind to me, I never shall stop loving you. But the love is altered, and I've learned to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you change places in my heart, that's all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come about naturally if I had waited, as you tried to make me, but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, head strong and violent, and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one, Joe, as you said, and I found it out after making a fool of myself. Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind at one time that I didn't know which I loved best. You or Amy and tried to love both alike, but I couldn't. And when I saw her in Switzerland, everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places, and I felt sure that it was well off with the old love before it was on the new, that I could honestly share my heart between Sister Joe and wife Amy and love them both dearly. Will you believe it and go back to the happy old times when we first knew one another? I'll believe it with all my heart, but Teddy, we never can be boy and girl again. The happy old times can't come back and we

mustn't expect it. We are man and woman now with sober work to do. For playtime is over. And we must give up frolicking. I'm sure you feel this. I see the change in you. and you'll find it in me. I shall miss my boy, but I shall love the man as much, and admire him more, because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can't be little playmates any longer, but we will be brother and sister, to love and help one another all our lives won't me, Laurie. He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered and laid his face on it for a minute, feeling that out of the grave of a boyish passion had risen a strong friendship to bless them both. Presently Joe said, I can't believe you two are already married. Feels like yesterday I was butting in Amy's pinnacle. As one of the children is older than yourself, don't call us kids, said Laurie. Amy's quite the grown-up now.

You may be older, but I feel 40. Joe replied. It's been a hard year. We left you to bear it alone. Laurie said. You do look tired. I've been selfish. Joe turned over her pillow. I had help from father, mother, and the babies, knowing you and Amy were safe helped. I get lonely, but maybe that's good for me. You won't be again, said Lori. Come help us keep house.

Just like old times. If I wouldn't be in the way, I'd like that. You've always been a comfort teddy. You haven't changed, Joe. Crying one moment, laughing the next. What's that look for?

Just wondering how you and Amy get on. Like angels. Yes, at first. But who rules? She does. us or I let her think so and makes her happy. She'll rule forever. She does it sweetly. To think I'd live to see you henpacked and enjoying it. Lori chuckled. We respect each other too much for tyranny or quarrels. Joe liked that, seeing the boy turning into a man. You never did quarrel. She's the sun. I'm the wind. The sun always wins. She can blow up too. She scolded me soundly and niece, then married the despicable party. Come to me if she abuses you. Do I look abused? Laurie laughed, as Amy's voice called. Where's my dear old Joe? In came the whole family, Mr. Lawrence beamed, Amy charmed him, and Laurie hovered proudly. Magnotist her dress, lacked Parisian air. Joe thought, they sued each other better than I ever did. Mr. and Mrs. March nodded approval. Amy's happiness shone. Her voice was gentler, her manner graceful. Love has done much for her, said Mrs. March. She's had a good example, whispered Mr. March, looking at his wife.

Daisy clung to Amy. Demi surrendered to Laurie's wooden bears. You hit me once, Laurie told Demi. Now I demand satisfaction. He tussled the boy who squealed. She's in silk head to foot, hand-hanna muttered, peaking through the slide. Voices overlapped until tea rescued them. Into the dining room they flowed. Mr. March escorted Mrs. Lawrence. Mrs. March leaned on my son. Mr. Lawrence took Joe's arm whispering, you must be my girl now. Joe whispered back, I'll try. The twins pranced, pocketing tarts and attaching themselves to Draenpa. Amy passed from arm to arm, returned on Father, Lawrence's. others peered off, leaving Joe alone. Hannah asked, will Miss Amy use them silver dishes? Wouldn't surprise me if she rode six white horses and eight off gold plates, Joe replied. Teddy thinks nothing's too good for her. No more there is. Hash her fish balls for breakfast. I don't care," said Joe, shutting the door. She looked at the stairs and suddenly felt lonely. If she'd known what gift was nearing, she wouldn't have said, I'll weep a little weep when I go to bed. She wiped her eyes. Then came a knock at the porch door. She opened it and started. A tall bearded man stood like a midnight sun. Oh Mr. Bear, I'm so glad to see you, Joe cried, gripping his coat. And I to see you, Miss March, but no, you have a party. Only family come in. He hesitated, but Joe shut the door and took his hat, joy unhidden. If I am not, Miss Yorda-Trop, I will gladly see them all. You have been ill? Not ill, just sorrowful. Ah, yes, my heart was sore for you," he said, shaking her hand again. Father, mother, this is my friend, Professor Bear. Joe said, proudly. He was warmly welcomed. Children climbed his knees. The women smiled. Mr. March engaged him in deep talk. Mr. Lawrence stayed up late. Joe knitting noticed his tidy dress, his thick hair. Dear old fellow, he's dressed like he's going courting, she thought. Then blushed and dropped her yarn. The professors scrambled too. They bumped heads and laughed. No one noticed the time. Babies gone, Mr. Lawrence departed, others lingered by the fire. "'We must have our sing,' said Joe. They weren't all there, but Beth's presence was felt. Her chair stood ready. Her music untouched. "'Play something, Laurie. Not tonight, Amy whispered, but sang Beth's songs with tender power. Her voice faltered at the last line, and she leaned on Laurie. To end well, Minyeon's song, Mr. Bear sings that, said Joe. You will sing with me? We go well together," he said. Joe hummed blissful. saying was so much feeling, Joe longed to say yes. A pause followed. Bear noticed Amy putting on her bonnet. My wife and I are glad to meet you, sir," said Laurie warmly.

I shall come again if you will give me leave, dear Madame." Bear said to Mrs. March. But looked at you. I suspect he's a wise man," said Mr. March. I know he's a good one. Said Mr. March.

I know he's a good one said Mrs. March. I thought you'd like him. Joe murmured slipping away. She wondered what brought him some modest honor perhaps.

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