Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,
Your go-to podcast that offers you a calm and relaxing transition into a great night's sleep.
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There is nothing you need to be doing now,
And nowhere you need to go.
Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you and let all the worries of the day drift away.
This is your time and your space.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.
There is nothing you need to be doing now,
And nowhere you need to go.
Happy listening.
Chapter 15 A Telegram November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year,
Said Margaret,
Standing at the window one dull afternoon,
Looking out at the frost-bitten garden.
That's the reason I was born in it,
Observed Jo pensively,
Quite unconscious of the blot on her nose.
If something very pleasant should happen now,
You should think it a delightful month,
Said Beth.
I dare say,
But nothing pleasant ever does happen in this family,
Said Meg,
Who was out of sorts.
We go grabbing along day after day without a bit of a change and very little fun.
Might as well be in a treadmill.
My patience,
How blue we are,
Cried Jo.
I don't much wonder,
Poor dear,
For you see the other girls having splendid times,
While you grind year in and year out.
Don't I wish I could manage things for you as I do for my heroines.
You're pretty enough and good enough already,
So I'd have some rich relation leave you a fortune unexpectedly,
Then you dash out as an heiress,
Scorn everyone who's slighted you,
Go abroad,
And come home,
My lady-something,
In a blaze of splendour and elegance.
People don't have fortunes left in that style nowadays.
Men have to work and women to marry for money,
Said Meg bitterly.
It's a dreadful unjust world.
Jo and I are going to make fortunes for you all,
Just wait ten years and see if we don't,
Said Amy.
She sat in a corner making mud pies,
As Hannah called her little clay models of birds,
Fruit and faces.
I can't wait,
Said Meg,
But I'm afraid I haven't much faith in ink and dirt,
Though I'm grateful for your good intentions.
She sighed and turned to the frost-bitten garden again.
Jo groaned and leaned both elbows on the table in despondent attitude,
But Amy patted away energetically and Beth,
Who sat at the other window,
Said,
Two pleasant things are going to happen right away.
Marmee's coming down the street and Laurie's tramping through the garden as if he had something nice to tell.
In they both came.
Mrs March with her usual question,
Any letter from father?
And Laurie just saying his persuasive way,
Won't some of you come for a drive?
I've been working at maths till my head's in a muddle and I'm going to freshen my wits by a brisk turn.
It's a dull day but the air isn't bad.
I'm going to take Brook home so it'll be gay inside if it isn't out.
Come Jo,
You and Beth will go,
Won't you?
Of course we will.
Much obliged,
But I'm busy,
Said Meg.
Then she whisked out her work basket,
For she'd agreed with her mother it was best for her at least,
Not to drive often with a young gentleman.
We'll be ready in a minute,
Cried Amy,
Running away to wash her hands.
Can I do anything for you,
Madam Mother?
Asked Laurie,
Leaning over Mrs March's chair.
No thank you,
Except call at the office if you'd be so kind,
Dear.
It's our day for a letter and the postman hasn't been.
Father's as regular as the sun.
But there's some delay on the way,
Perhaps.
A sharp ring interrupted them,
And a minute after Hannah came in with a letter.
It's one of them horrid telegraph things,
Mum,
She said,
Handling it as if she were afraid it would explode.
At the word telegraph,
Mrs March snatched it,
Read the two lines it contained,
And dropped back into her chair,
As white as if the little paper had sent a bullet to her heart.
Laurie dashed downstairs for water.
Meg and Hannah supported her,
And Jo read aloud in a frightened voice.
Mrs March,
Your husband is very ill,
Come at once.
S.
Hale,
Blank Hospital,
Washington.
How still the room was as they listened breathlessly.
How strange the day darkened outside,
And how suddenly the whole world seemed to change as the girls gathered about their mother,
Feeling as if all the happiness and support of their lives was about to be taken from them.
Mrs March was herself again directly,
Read the message over,
And stretched out her arms,
Saying,
I shall go at once,
But it may be too late.
Children,
Help me to bear it.
For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of sobbing,
Mingled with broken words of comfort,
Tender assurances of help,
And hopeful whispers that died away in tears.
Poor Hannah was the first to recover,
And with unconscious wisdom she set all the rest a good example,
For with her,
Work was the panacea for most afflictions.
Lord,
Keep the dear man.
I won't waste no time of crying,
But get your things ready right away,
Mum.
She said heartily,
As she wiped her face on her apron,
Gave her mistress a warm shake of the hand with her own hard one,
And went away to work like three women in one.
She's right,
There's no time for tears now.
Be calm,
Girls,
And let me think.
They tried to be calm,
Poor things,
As their mother sat up looking pale.
Where's Laurie?
She asked presently,
When she'd collected her thoughts.
Then she decided on the first duties to be done.
Let me do something,
Cried Laurie,
Hurrying from the next room,
Whether he had withdrawn.
Send a telegram saying I will come at once,
The next train goes early in the morning,
I'll take that.
What else?
The horses are ready,
I can go anywhere,
I can do anything,
He said.
Leave a note at Aunt March's,
Jo give me that pen and paper.
Tearing off the blank side of one of her newly copied pages,
Jo drew the table before her mother,
Well knowing that money for the long sad journey must be borrowed,
And feeling as if she could do anything to add a little to the sum for her father.
Now go dear,
But don't kill yourself driving at a desperate pace,
There's no need of that.
Mrs March's warning was evidently thrown away,
For five minutes later Laurie tore by the window on his own fleet horse,
Riding as if for his life.
Jo,
Run to the rooms and tell Mrs King I can't come,
On the way get these things,
I'll put them down,
They'll be needed.
I must go prepared for nursing,
Hospital stores are not always good.
Beth,
Go and ask Mr Lawrence for a couple of bottles of old wine,
I'm not too proud to beg for father,
He shall have the best of everything.
Amy,
Tell Hannah to get down the black trunk,
And Meg come and help me find my things,
For I'm half bewildered.
Writing,
Thinking and directing all at once might well bewilder the poor lady,
And Meg begged her to sit down quietly in her room for a little while,
And let them work.
Everyone scattered like leaves before a gust of wind,
And the quiet happy household was broken up suddenly,
As if the paper had been an evil spell.
Mr Lawrence came hurrying back with Beth,
Bringing every comfort the kind old gentleman could think of.
There was nothing he didn't offer,
From his own dressing gown to himself as an escort.
But that last was impossible.
Mrs March would not hear of the old gentleman's undertaking the long journey,
Yet an expression of relief was visible when he spoke of it,
For anxiety ill fits one for travelling.
I'm very sorry to hear of this,
Miss March,
He said in the kind quiet tone,
Which sounded pleasantly to her perturbed spirit.
I came to offer myself as an escort to your mother.
Mr Lawrence has commissions for me in Washington,
And it will give me great satisfaction to be of service to her there.
Down dropped the rubbers,
And the tea was very near following,
As Meg put out her hand with a face so full of gratitude,
That Mr Brooke would have felt,
Repaid for a much greater service,
Than the trifling one of time and comfort which he was about to make.
By the time Laurie returned with a note from Aunt March,
Enclosing the desired sum,
And a few lines repeating what she'd often said before,
That she'd always told them it was absurd for March to go into the army,
Everything was arranged.
The short afternoon wore away,
All the other errands were done,
And Meg and her mother busy at some necessary needlework,
While Beth and Amy got tea,
And Hannah finished her ironing with what she called a slap and a bang,
But still Jo did not come.
They began to get anxious.
Laurie went off to find her,
For no one ever knew what freak Jo might take into her head.
He missed her,
However,
And she came walking in with a very queer expression of countenance,
For there was a mixture of fun and fear,
Satisfaction and regret in it,
Which puzzled the family as much as did the roll of bills she laid before her mother.
That's my contribution towards making father comfortable and bringing him home.
My dear,
Where did you get that?
Twenty-five dollars?
Jo,
I hope you haven't done anything rash.
No,
It's mine,
Honestly.
I didn't beg,
Borrow or steal.
I earned it.
I don't think you'll blame me,
For I only sold what was my own.
As she spoke,
Jo took off her bonnet,
And a general outcry arose,
For all her abundant hair was cut short.
Your beautiful hair!
Oh,
Jo,
How could you?
Your one beauty!
There was no need of this.
You don't look like my Jo anymore,
But I love you dearly for it.
Beth hugged the cropped head tenderly.
Jo assumed an indifferent air,
Which did not deceive anyone a particle,
And said,
Rumbling up the brown bush,
And trying to look as if she liked it,
It doesn't affect the fate of the nation,
So don't wail,
Beth.
It'll be good for my vanity.
I was getting too proud of my wig.
It'll do my brain's good,
Too,
To have that mop taken off.
My head feels deliciously light and cool,
And the barber says I could soon have a curly crop,
Which will be boyish,
Becoming,
And easy to keep in order.
I'm satisfied,
So please take the money,
And let's have some supper.
