Music Welcome to Snuescast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snuescast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Praiseworthy Propriety. Tonight, we'll read the next chapter of Good Wives written by Luisa May Elcott titled Under the Umbrella. This is also known as the second half of the Little Women novel and is considered the 46th chapter as part of that work as a whole. In our last chapter, Daisy and Demi, Meg's twins become the delight of the March household. Meg devotes herself to their care while John takes special pride in his son, dreaming of the man he will grow into. The babies charm the entire family. Joe, at first unsure of them, warms up and plays the lively aunt, while Laurie and the others also share in the joy of helping raise the little ones. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. While Lori and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets as they set their house in order and planned a blissful future, Mr. Bear and Joe were enjoying promenades of a different sort, along muddy roads and sodden fields. I always do take a walk evening, and I don't know why I should give it up, just because I often happen to meet the professor on his way out," said Joe to herself, after two or three encounters, four, though there were two paths to Meg's, whichever one she took, she was sure to meet him, either going or returning. He was always walking rapidly, and never seemed to see her till quite close, when he would look as if his short-sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till that moment. Then, if she was going to Meg's, he always had something for the babies. If her face was turned homeward, he had merely strolled down to see the river, and was just about returning, unless they were tired of his frequent calls. Under the circumstances, what could Joe do but greet him civilly and invite him in? If she was tired of his visits, she concealed her weariness with perfect skill and took care that there should be coffee for supper. Fred Frederick, I mean Mr. Bear, doesn't like tea. By the second week, everyone knew perfectly well what was going on, yet everyone tried to look as if they were stone blind to the changes in Joe's face. They never asked why she's about her work. Did up her hair three times a day and got so blooming with her evening exercise, and no one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bear, while talking philosophy with the father was giving the daughter lessons in love. Joe couldn't even lose her heart in a deckeress manner, but sternly tried to quench her feelings. And failing to do so led a somewhat agitated life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering.

After soo... a somewhat agitated life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering after so many vehement declarations of independence. Laurie was her special dread. Thanks to the new manager, he behaved with praiseworthy propriety.

Never calling Mr. Bear a capital-old fellow in public, never alluded in the remotest manner to Joe's improved appearance, or express the least surprise at seeing the professor's hat on the marches hall table nearly every evening.

But he exalted in private and longed for the time to come when he could give Joe a piece of plate with a bear and a ragged staff on it as an appropriate coat of arms. For a fortnight, the professor came and went with lover-like regularity. Then he stayed away for three whole days and made no sign, a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober, and Joe to become pen-s at first, and then Alas for romance, very cross. Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came. It's nothing to me, of course, but I should think he would have come and bid us goodbye,

like a gentleman, she said to herself, with a despairing look at the gate, as she put on her things for a customary walk, one dull afternoon. You'd better take the little umbrella deer.

It looks like rain," said her mother, observing that she... You'd better take the little umbrella, dear.

It looks like rain," said her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding to the fact. Yes, Marmy, do you want anything in town? I'd like to run in and get some paper. Return Joe. out theing out the bow under her chin, before the glass, as an excuse for not looking at her mother. Yes, I want some twilled Celicia, a paper of number nine needles, and two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got on your thick boots and something warm under your cloak? I believe so. Answer Joe, absently. If you happen to meet Mr. Bear, bring him home to tea. I quite long to see the dear man. Added Mrs. March. Joe hurt that, but made no answer, except to kiss her mother, and walk rapidly away, thinking with a glow of gratitude, in spite of her heartache. How good she is to me. What do girls do who haven't any mothers to help them through their troubles. The dry goods stores were not down among the counting houses, banks, and wholesale ware-rooms, where gentlemen most do congregate. But Joe found herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand, loitering along as if waiting for someone, examining engineering instruments in one window, and samples of wool in another with most unfeminant interest, tumbling over barrels, being half-smothered by descending bales, and hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as if they wondered how the dew she got there. A drop of rain on her cheek recalled her thoughts from baffled hopes to ruined ribbons. For the drops continued to fall, and a woman as well as a lover, she felt that, though it was too late to save her heart, she might her bonnet. Now she remembered the little umbrella, which she had forgotten to take in her hurry to be off, but regret was unavailing, and nothing could be done but borrow one or submit to a drenching. She looked up at the lowering sky, down at the crimson bow already flecked with black, word along the muddy street, then one long lingering look behind, at a certain grimy warehouse with half-man shorts and co over the door, and said to herself, with a sternly reproachful air, it serves me right what What business had I to put on all my best things in comfort landering down here, hoping to see the professor? Joe, I'm ashamed of you. No, you shall not go there to borrow an umbrella or find out where he is from his friends. You shall trudge away and do your errands in the rain, and if you catch your death and ruin your bonnet, it's no more than you deserve. Now then. With that, she rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly escaped annihilation from a passing truck and precipitated herself into the arms of a stately old gentleman who said, I beg your pardon, ma'am, and looked mortally offended. Somewhat daunted, Joe righted herself, spread her hanker over the devoted ribbons and, putting temptation behind her, hurried on, with increasing dampness about the ankles, and much clashing of umbrellas overhead. The fact that a somewhat dilapidated blue one remains stationary above the unprotected bonnet, attracted her attention. And looking up, she saw Mr. Bear looking down. I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many horse-noses, and so fast through much mud, what do you do down here, my friend? I'm shopping. Mr. Bear smiled, as he glanced from the pickle factory on one side to the wholesale, hide, and leather concern on the other. But he only politely said, you have no umbrella. May I go also and take for you the bundles? Yes, thank you. Jo's cheeks were as red as her ribbon, and she wondered what he thought of her, but she didn't care. For in a minute she found herself walking away arm and arm with her professor, feeling as if the sun had suddenly burst out with uncommon brilliancy, that the world was all right again, and that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that day. We thought you had gone," said Joe hastily, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmadeedly. Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who have been so kind to me? He asked so reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion and answered heartily. No, I didn't. I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we rather missed you. Father and mother especially. And you? I'm always glad to see you, sir. In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Joe made it rather cool, and the frosty little monosilable at the end seemed to chill the Professor for his smile vanished as he said gravely.

I thank you and come one time more before I go. You are going then? I have no business longer any here, it is done. Successfully I hope?" said Joe, for the bitterness of disappointment was in that short reply of his.

I ought to think so.

For I half a way open to me by which I can make my brad and give my younglings some help. Tell me, please, I like to know all about the boys, said Joe eagerly.

That is so kind.

I gladly tell you. My friends find for me a place in a college where I teach as at home and earn enough to make the way smooth for France and Emile. For this I should be grateful, should I not? Indeed, you should. How splendid it will be to have you doing what you like, and be able to see you often, and the boys!" cried Joe. clinging to the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help betraying. Ah, but we shall not meet often, I fear. This place is at the west. So far away. And Joe left her skirts to their fate, as if it didn't matter now what became of her clothes or herself. Mr. Bear could read several languages, but he had not learned to read women yet. He flattered himself that he knew Joe pretty well and was, therefore, much amazed by the contradictions of voice, face and manner, which he showed him in rapid succession that day, for she was in half a dozen different moods in the course of half an hour. When she met him, she looked surprised, though it was impossible to help suspecting that she had come for that express purpose. When he offered her his arm, she took it with a look that filled him with delight. But when he asked if she missed him, she gave such a chilly formal reply that despair fell upon him. On learning his good fortune, she almost clapped her hands. Was the joy all for the boys? Then on hearing his destination, she said, So far away in a tone of despair that lifted him onto a pinnacle of hope. But the next minute she tumbled him down again by observing, like one entirely absorbed in the matter. Here's the place for my errands. Will you come in? It won't take long. Joe rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities, and particularly wished to impress her escort with the neatness and despatch with which she would accomplish the business. But owing to the flutter she was in, everything went to miss. She upset the tray of needles, forgot about the twill on the fabric till it was cut off, gave the wrong change, and covered herself with confusion by asking for lavender ribbon at the Calico counter. Mr. Bear stood by, watching her blush and blunder, and as he watched, his own bewilderment seemed to subside, for he was beginning to see that on some occasions women, like dreams, go by contraries. When they came out, he put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it on the whole. Should we not do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and half a farewell feast tonight, if I go for my last call at your so pleasant home?" He asked, stopping before a window full of fruit and flowers.

What would buy?" said Joe, ignoring the latter part of his speech, and sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delight as they went in. May they have oranges and figs? Mr. Bear with a paternal heir. They eat them when they can get them. Do you care for nuts? Like a squirrel. Humber grapes. Yes, we shall surely drink to the fatherland in those. Joe frowned upon that piece of extravagance, and asked why he didn't buy a frail of dates, a cask of raisins, and a bag of almonds, and done with it. We're at Mr. Bear confiscated her purse, produced his own, and finished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes, a pot of rosy daisies, and a pretty jar of honey to be regarded in the light of a demi-john. Then, distorting his pockets with the knobby bundles, and giving her the flowers to hold, he put up the old umbrella, and they traveled on again. Meesmarch, I have a great favor to ask you. Begin the professor, after a moist promenade of half a block. Yes, sir. And Joe's heart began to beat so hard she was afraid he would hear it. I am bold to say it in spite of the rain, because so short a time remains to me. Yes, sir. And Joe nearly crushed the small flower pot with the sudden squeeze she gave it. I wish to get a little dress for my Tina, and I am too stupid to go alone. Will you kindly give me a word of taste and help?" Yes, sir. And Jo felt as calm and cool all of a sudden as if she had stepped into a refrigerator. Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother.

She is so poor and sick. And the husband is such a care. Yes, yes, a thick warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take the little mother. I'll do it with pleasure, Mr. Bear. I'm going very fast, and he's getting dearer every minute. Added Joe to herself, then, with a mental shake, she entered into the business with an energy which was pleasant to behold. Mr. Bear let Joe choose a gown for little Tina, then suggested a shawl for herself.

The clerk draped one over her shoulders, and Joe, glad to hide her face, asked if it suited. Excellently well said the professor, paying with a smile.

As they left, Joe felt suddenly weary and heart sick at the thought of his going away. She hailed an omnibus in haste, spilling her flowers, and tried to hide her tears. Mr. Bear noticed and deeply moved, asked, heart's dearest, why do you cry? Joe, unable to deny it, sobbed because you are going away. Overcome with joy, he confessed his love and asked if she could care for old frets. Joe gladly answered yes, taking his arm beneath the shabby umbrella. Though they stood in the rain, wet and bedraggled, both felt radiant, as if the world had nothing more to offer. Strolling on together, Joe called him Friedrich, and he treasured the name. He explained that he had once held back, believing her promise to another, but had been drawn back to her after reading her published writing. Joe assured him her heart was his, and together they dreamed of their life ahead. I found it by chance. I knew it by the names and the initials, and in it there was one little verse that seemed to call me. Read and find him. I will see that you go not in the wet. Joe obeyed and hastily skimmed through the lines which he had christened. In the garret, four little chests all in a row dim with dust and worn with time all fashioned and filled long ago by children now in their prime.

Four little keys hung side by side with faded ribbons, brave and gay, when fastened there with childish pride long ago on a rainy day. little names, one on each lid carved out by a boy's hand and underneath their liith-hid histories of the happy band, once playing here and pausing off to hear the sweet refrain that came and went on the roofaloft

in the falling summer rain.

Meg on the first lid, smooth and fair,

a look in with loving eyes,

purfulded here with well-known care,

a goodly gathering lies. The record of a peaceful life gives to gentle child and girl, a bridal gown, lines to a wife, a tiny shoe, a baby curl. No toys in this first chest remain, for all are carried away, in their old age to join again in another small meg's play. A happy mother, well I know you hear like a sweet refrain, low a bice ever soft and low in the falling summer rain. Joe on the next lid scratched and worn and within a motley store of headless dolls of schoolbooks torn, birds and beasts that speak no more. Spoils brought home from the fairy-ground, only trod by youthful feet. Dreams of a future never found. Memories of a past still sweet. Half-rit poems, stories wild, April letters, warm and cold, Diaries of a willful child, hints of a woman early old, a woman in a lonely home, hearing like a sad refrain, be worthy love and love will come in the falling summer rain. My bath, the dust is always swept from the lid that bears your name, as if by loving eyes that wept by careful hands that often came. Death canonized for us one saint, ever less human than divine, and still we lay with tender paint, relics in this household shrine. The silver bell so seldom rung. The little cap which last she wore. The fair dead Catherine that hung by angels born above her door. The song she sang without lament in her prison house of pain. Forever are they sweetly blent with the falling summer rain? Upon the last lids' polished field, legend now both fair and true, a gallant night bears on his shield, Amy, and letters gold and blue. Within light snooze that bound her hair, slippers that have danced their last, faded flowers laid by with care, fans whose airy toils are past. Gave all in times all ardent flames, trifles that have borne their part, in girlish hopes and fears and chains. The record of a maiden heart now learning fairer, truer spells, hearing like a blithre frame, the silver sound of bridal bells in the falling summer rain. little chests chests all in a row dim with dust and worn by time. Four women taught by wheel and wool to love and labor in their prime. Four sisters parted for an hour, none lost, one only gone before, made by loves in mortal power nearest and dearest evermore. Oh, when these hidden stores of ours light open to the Father's sight, may they be rich and golden hours, deeds that show fairer for the light. Lives whose brave music long shall ring, like a spirit stirring strain, souls that shall gladly soar in sing, in the long sunshine after rain. J.M. It's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it one day when I was very lonely and had a good cry on a rag bag. I never thought it would go where it could tell tales," said Joe, tearing up the verses the professor had treasured so long. Let it go, it has done its duty, and I will have a fresh one when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets," said Mr. Bear, with a smile. As he watched the fragments fly away on the wind. Yes, he added earnestly, I read that, and I think to myself, she has a sorrow, she is lonely, she would find comfort and true love. I have a full heart, full for her shall I not go and say, if this is not too poor a thing to give for what I shall hope to receive, take it in God's name. And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious thing I needed. Whisper Joe, I had no courage to think that at first. Heavenly kindness you're welcome to me. But soon I began to hope. And then I said, I will have her if I die for it. And so I will. Cried Mr. Bear with a defiant nod. As if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he was to surmount or valiantly knocked down. Joe thought that was splendid and resolved to be worthy of her night, though he did not come prancing on a charger and gorgeous array. What made you stay away so long?" she asked presently, finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful answers that she could not keep silent. It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you from that so happy home until I could give half a prospect of one to give you, after much time, perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to give up so much for a poor old fellow who has no fortune but a little learning. I'm glad you are poor. I couldn't bear a rich husband," said Joe decidedly, adding, in a softer tone. Don't fear poverty. I've known it long enough to lose my dread and be happy working for those I love. And don't call yourself old. 4K is the prime of life. I couldn't help loving you if you were 70. The professor was so moved he could hardly speak. Until Joe wiped his eyes and teased, I may be strong-minded, but at least I'm in my sphere, drying tears and carrying burdens. I'll share the work, Frederick, or I won't go at all." He asked if she had patience to wait, and he must finish his duty to Minas Boris before starting their life together. Joe assured him she could, since love made the rest easy. They had her own work to do, and both would be content, hoping and waiting as God willed. Ah, thou give us me such hope and courage, cried the professor and I have nothing to give back but a full heart and empty hands. Joe never, never would learn to be proper. For when he said that, as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, not empty now, and stooping down, kissed her free-dreck under the umbrella. It was dreadful, but she would have done it if the flock of dragled tailed sparrows on the hedge had been human beings, for she was very far gone indeed. And quite regardless of everything but her own happiness.

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