Music Welcome to snoozecast, the 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 Ruffold Spirits. Tonight, we'll read the fifth chapter to Good Wives written by Luisa May Alcott. This is also known as the second half of the Little Women novel. Our last episode was the chapter titled Domestic Experiences, in which Meg navigates her life as newlyweds with John. She also grapples with the expectations placed upon her and which she places on herself, as a married woman, striving to embody the ideal of a good little wife. faces challenges as she navigates the complexities of married life but also finds moments of joy and fulfillment in her role, learning the importance of compromise, communication, and mutual respect. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. Come Joe, it's time. For what? You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls with me today. I've done a good many rash and foolish things in my life, but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six calls in one day when a single one upsets me for a week. Yes, you did. It was a bargain between us. I was to finish the crayon of Beth for you and you were to go properly with me and return our neighbor's visits. If it was fair, that was in the bond and I stand to the letter of my bond,

Shylock.

There is a pile of clouds in the east.

It's not fair, and I don't go.

Now that's shirking.

It's a lovely day, no prospect of rain,

and you pride yourself on keeping promises.

So be honorable, come and do your duty, and then be at peace for another six months. At that minute, Joe was particularly absorbed in dressmaking, for she was dressmaker general to the family, and took a special credit to herself because she could use a needle as well as a pen. It was very provoking to be arrested in the act of a first trying on and ordered out to make calls in her best array on a warm July day. She hated calls of the formal sort and never made any till Amy compelled her with a bargain, bribe, or promise. In the present instance, there was no escape, and having clashed her scissors rebelliously while protesting that she smelt thunder, she gave in, put away her work, and taking up her hat and gloves with an air of resignation, told Amy the victim was ready. Joe March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint. You don't intend to make calls in that state, I hope? Cryed Amy, surveying her with amazement. Why not? I'm neat and cool and comfortable, quite proper for a dusty walk on a warm day. If people care more for my clothes than they do for me, I don't wish to see them. You can dress for both and be as elegant as you please. It pays for you to be fine, it doesn't for me, and fur below is only worry me." Oh dear! Side Amy. Now she's in a contrary fit and will drive me distracted before I can get her properly ready. I'm sure it's no pleasure to me to go today, but it's a debt we owe society, and there's no one to pay it but you and me. I'll do anything for you, Joe, if you'll only dress yourself nicely, and come and help me do the civil. You can talk so well, look so aristocratic in your best things, and behave so beautifully if you try, that I'm proud of you. I'm afraid to go alone. Do come and take care of me. You're an artful little pus to flatter and weedle your cross-old sister in that way. The idea of my being a risticratic and well-bred, and you're being afraid to go anywhere alone, I don't know which is the most absurd. Well, I'll go if I must and do my best. You shall be commander of the expedition and aloe bay blindly. Will that satisfy you?" said Joe, with a sudden change from perversity to lamb-like submission. You're a perfect cherub. Now put on all your best things and I'll tell you how to behave at each place so that you will make a good impression. I want people to like you, and they would, if you'd only try to be a little more agreeable, do your hair the pretty way, and put the pink rose in your bonnet, it's becoming, and you look too sober in your plain suit. Take your light gloves and the embroidered hankerchief. We'll stop at Meg's and borrow her white sun shade and then you can have my dove colored one. While Amy dressed she issued her orders and Jo obeyed them not without entering her protest, however, for she sighed as she rustled into her new organ-dee, frowned darkly at herself as she tied her bonnet strings in an irreproachable bow, rustled viciously with pins as she put on her collar, wrinkled up her features generally as she shook out the hanker chief, whose embroidery was as irritating to her nose as the present mission was to her feelings. And when she had squeezed her hands into tight gloves with three buttons and a tassel. As the last touch of elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbosal expression of countenance, saying, Meekly, I'm perfectly miserable, but if you consider me presentable, I die happy. You are highly satisfactory, turn slowly round and let me get a careful view. Joe revolved and Amy gave a touch here and there. Then fell back with her head on one side, observing graciously. Yes, you'll do. Your head is all I could ask for that white bonnet with the rose is quite ravishing. Hold back your shoulders and carry your hands easily, no matter if your gloves do pinch. There's one thing you can do well, Joe, that is, wear a shawl. I can't, but it's very nice to see you, and I'm so glad Aunt March gave you that lovely one. It's simple but handsome, and those folds over the arm are really artistic. Is the point of my mantle in the middle, and have I looped my dress evenly? I like to show my boots for my feet are pretty, though my nose isn't. You are a thing of beauty and joy forever," said Joe, looking through her hand with the air of a connoisseur at the blue feather against the gold hair. Am I to drag my best dress through the dust or loop it up, please, ma'am. Hold it up when you walk, but drop it in the house, the sweeping style suits you best. And you must learn to trail your skirts gracefully. You haven't half-button one cuff. Do it at once. You'll never look finished if you're not careful about the little details for they make up the pleasing hole. Joe sighed and proceeded to burst the buttons off her glove in doing up her cuff. But at last both were ready and sailed away, looking as pretty as pictures. Hannah said as she hung out of the upper window to watch them. Now, Joe Deer, the Chester's consider themselves very elegant people. So I want you to put on your best deportment. Don't make any of your abrupt remarks or do anything odd, will you? Just be calm, cool, and quiet. That's safe and ladylike, and you can easily do it for 15 minutes."

Said Amy, as they approached the first place, having borrowed the white parasol and been inspected by Meg with a baby on each arm. Let me see, calm, cool, and quiet.

Yes, I think I can promise that.

I've played the part of a... Let me see, calm, cool, and quiet.

Yes, I think I can promise that. I've played the part of a premium lady on the stage, and I'll try it off. My powers are great, as you shall see. So be easy in your mind, my child. Amy looked relieved, but Naughty Joe took her at her word for, during the first call, she sat with every limb gracefully composed, every fold correctly draped, calm as a summer see cool as a snow snowbank, and as silent as a sphinx. In vain, Mrs. Chester alluded to her charming novel, and the Mrs. Chester introduced parties, picnics, the opera, and the fashions. Each and all were answered by a smile about and a demure yes or no with the chill on. In vain Amy telegraphed the word talk, tried to draw her out and administered covert poaks with her foot.

Joe sat as if blandly unconscious of it all, with deportment like Ma's face, isely regular, splendidly null. What a hotty, uninteresting creature that oldest mismarches was the unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies as the door closed upon their guests. Joe laughed noiselessly all through the hall, but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of her instructions and very naturally laid the blame upon Joe. How could you mistake me so? I merely meant you to be properly dignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect stock and stone. Try to be sociable at the lambs, gossip as other girls do, and be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsense comes up. They move in the best society, our valuable persons for us to know, and I wouldn't fail to make a good impression there for anything. Now be agreeable, I'll gossip and giggle, and have horrors and raptures over any trifle you like. I rather enjoy this, and now I'll imitate what is called a charming girl. I can do it, for I have made Chester as a model and I'll improve upon her.

See if the lambs don't say, what a lively nice creature that Joe marches. Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Joe turned freakish there was no knowing where she would stop. Amy's face was a study when she saw her sister skim into the next drawing room, kiss all the young ladies with effusion, beam graciously upon the young gentleman, and join in the chat with a spirit which amazes the beholder. Amy was taken possession of by Mrs. Lam with whom she was a favorite and forced to hear a long account of Lucretia's last attack while three delightful young gentlemen hovered near waiting for for a pause when they might rush in and rescue her. So situated, she was powerless to check Jo, who seemed possessed by a spirit of mischief, and talked away as volubley as the old lady. A knot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears to hear what was going on. Four, broken sentences filled her with alarm. Round eyes and uplifted hands tormented her with curiosity, and frequent peals of laughter made her wild to share the fun. One may imagine her suffering on overhearing fragments of this sort of conversation. She rides splendidly, who taught her? No one. She used to practice mounting, holding the reins, and sitting straight on an old saddle and a tree. Now she rides anything, for she doesn't know what fear is, and the stable man lets her have horses cheap, because she trains them to carry ladies so well. She has such a passion for it. I often tell her if everything else fails, she can be a horsebreaker and get her living so. At this awful speech, Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which was her special aversion. But what could she do? where the old lady was in the middle of her story? And long before it was done, Joe was off again, making more draw revelations, and committing still more fearful blunders. Yes, Amy was in despair that day for all the good beasts were gone, and of three left, one was lame, one blind, and the other so bulky that you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start. Nice animal for a pleasure party, wasn't it? Which did she choose? Asked one of the laughing gentlemen who enjoyed the subject. None of them. She heard of a young horse at the farmhouse over the river, and the little lady had never ridden him. She resolved to try because he was handsome and spirited. Her struggles were really pathetic. There was no one to bring the horse to the saddle, so she took the saddle to the horse. My dear creature, she actually rode it over the river, put it on her head, and marched up to the barn to the utter amazement of the old man. Did she ride the horse? Of course she did, and had a capital time. I expected to see her brought home in fragments, but she managed imperfectly and was the life of the party. Well, I call that plucky. And young Mr. Leam turned an approving glance at Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to make the girl look so red and uncomfortable. She was still redder and more uncomfortable a moment after, when a sudden turn in the conversation introduced the subject of dress. One of the young ladies asked Joe where she got the pretty drab hat she wore to the picnic, and, stupid Joe, instead of mentioning the place where it was bought two years ago, must needs answer with unnecessary frankness. Oh, Amy painted it. You can't buy those soft shades. So we paint ours any color we like. It's a great comfort to have an artistic sister. Isn't that an original idea? Cried Miss Lamb, who found Joe great fun? That's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances. There's nothing the child can't do. Why? She wanted a pair of blue boots for Sally's party, so she just painted her soiled white ones the loveliest shade of sky blue you ever saw, and they looked exactly like satin. Added Joe, with an air of pride in her sister's accomplishments, that exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her card case at her. We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed very much. Observe the elder, Miss Lamb, wishing to complement the literary lady who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed. Any mention of her works always had a bad effect upon Jo, who either grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subject with a brusque remark as now. Sorry, you could find nothing better to read. I write that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary people like it. Are you going to New York this winter? As Miss Lamb had enjoyed the story, this speech was not exactly grateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Joe saw her mistake, but fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered that it it was for her to make the first move towards departure, and did so with an abruptness that left three people with half-finished sentences in their mouths. Amy, we must go. Good bye, dear. Do come and see us. We are pining for a visit. I don't dare to ask you, Mr. Lamb, but if you should come, I don't think I shall have the heart to send you away." Joe said this with such a draw, imitation of Maychester's gushing style, that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible, feeling a strong desire to laugh and cry at the same time. Didn't I do that well? As Joe, with a satisfied air, as they walked away, nothing could have been worse, was Amy's crushing reply. What possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle and the hats and the boots and all the rest of it? Why, it's funny and the muses people, they know we are poor, so it's no use pretending that we have grooms by three or four hats a season and have things as easy and fine as they do. You needn't go and tell them all our little shifts and expose our poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way. You haven't a bit of proper pride and never will learn when to hold your tongue

and when to speak," said Amy, despairingly. Poor Joe looked abashed and silently chaffed the end of her nose with the stiff handkerchief as if performing a appenance for her misdemeanors.

How shall I behave here?" she asked, as they approached the third mansion. Just as you please, I wash my hands of you, was Amy's short answer. Then I'll enjoy myself, the boys are at home, and we'll have a comfortable time. Goodness knows I need a little change. For elegance has a bad effect upon my constitution. Return Joe roughly, being disturbed by her failures to suit. An enthusiastic welcome from three big boys and several pretty children speedily soothed her ruffled feelings and leaving Amy to entertain the hostess and Mr. Tudor, who happened to be calling likewise, Joe devoted herself to the young folks and found the change refreshing. She listened to college stories with deep interest, caressed pointers and puddles without a murmur. Agreed heartily that Tom Brown was a brick, regardless of the improper form of praise, and when one lad proposed a visit to his turtle tank, she went with an alacrity which caused Mama to smile upon her. As that motherly lady settled the cap which was left in a ruinous condition by filial hugs,

bear-like but affectionate, and dearer to her than the most faultless

hairstyle from the hands of an inspired French woman.

Leaving her sister to her own devices, Amy proceeded to enjoy herself to her heart's content. Mr. Tutor's uncle had married an English lady who was third cousin to a living Lord, and Amy regarded the whole family with great respect. However, in spite of her American birth and breeding, she possessed that reverence for

titles which haunts the best of us, that unacknowledged loyalty to the early faith in kings which set the most democratic nation under the sun in a ferment at the coming of a royal yellow haired laddy some years ago,

in which st- under the sun in a ferment at the coming of a royal yellow haired laddy some years ago, and which still has something to do with the love the young country bears the old, like that of a big sun for an imperious little mother who held him while she could, and let him go with a farewell scolding when he rebelled. But even the satisfaction of talking with a distant connection of the British nobility did not render Amy forgetful of time. And when the proper number of minutes had passed, she reluctantly tore herself from this aristocratic society and looked about for Joe. Fervently hoping that her incorrigible sister would not be found in any position which should bring disgrace upon the name of March. It might have been worse, but Amy considered it bad, for Joe sat on the grass with an encampment of boys about her and a dirty footed dog reposing on the skirt of her state and festival dress, she related one of Laurie's pranks to her admiring audience. One small child was poking turtles with Amy's cherished parasol. A second was eating gingerbread over Joe's best bonnet, and a third playing ball with her gloves.

But all were enjoying themselves, and when Joe collected her damaged property to go, her escort accompanied her, begging her to come again, it was such fun to hear about Lori's Lori's larks.

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