Sleep Story: Little Women Ch 38

Enjoy this sleep story to help you drift off into a peaceful slumber. Tonight we read chapter 38 of the timeless classic, Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. This chapter describes Meg and her husband working out marital affairs. This audio is perfect for children or adults who want to relax, discover magic or find adventure before a great night's sleep. This beautiful photo was captured in Colorado by Oliver Pierce.

Transcript

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.

Chapter 38.

On the Shelf.

In France,

The young girls have a dull time of it till they're married,

When Vive la Liberté becomes their motto.

In America,

As everyone knows,

Girls early sign the Declaration of Independence and enjoy their freedom with Republican zest.

But the young matrons usually abdicate with their first heir to the throne and go into a seclusion almost as close as a French nunnery,

Though by no means as quiet.

Whether they like it or not,

They are virtually put upon the shelf as soon as the wedding excitement is over,

And most of them might exclaim,

As did a very pretty woman the other day,

I am as handsome as ever,

But no one takes any notice of me because I'm married.

Not being a belle or even a fashionable lady,

Meg did not experience this affliction till her babies were a year old,

For in her little world primitive customs prevailed,

And she found herself more admired and beloved than ever.

As she was a womanly little woman,

The maternal instinct was very strong,

And she was entirely absorbed in her children,

To the utter exclusion of everything and everybody else.

Day and night she brooded over them with tireless devotion and anxiety,

Leaving John to the tender mercies of the help,

For an Irish lady now presided over the kitchen department.

Being a domestic man,

John decidedly missed the wifely attentions he'd been accustomed to receive,

But as he adored his babies,

He cheerfully relinquished his comfort for a time,

Supposing with masculine ignorance that peace would soon be restored.

But three months passed,

And there was no return of repose.

Meg looked worn and nervous,

The babies absorbed every minute of her time.

The house was neglected,

And Kitty the cook,

Who took life easy,

Kept him on short commons.

When he went out in the morning,

He was bewildered by small commissions for a captive mama.

If he came gaily in at night,

Eager to embrace his family,

He was quenched by a hush.

They're just asleep after worrying all day.

If he proposed a little amusement at home,

No,

It will disturb the babies.

If he hinted at a lecture or a concert,

He was answered with a reproachful look,

And Anna decided,

Leave my children for pleasure?

Never.

His sleep was broken by infant wails and visions of a phantom figure pacing noiselessly to and fro in the watches of the night.

His meals were interrupted by the frequent flight of the presiding genius,

Who deserted him,

Half-helped,

In a muffled chirp sounded from above the nest.

And when he read his paper of an evening,

Demi's colic got into the shipping list,

And Daisy's fall affected the price of stocks,

For Miss Brooke was only interested in domestic news.

The poor man was very uncomfortable,

For the children had bereft him of his wife.

Home was merely a nursery,

And the perpetual hushing made him feel like a brutal intruder whenever he entered the sacred precincts of Babyland.

He bore it very patiently for six months,

And when no signs of amendment appeared,

He did what other paternal exiles do,

Try to get a little comfort elsewhere.

Scott had married and gone to housekeeping not far off,

And John fell into the way of running over for an hour or two of an evening,

When his own parlor was empty,

And his own wife singing lullabies that seemed to have no end.

Miss Scott was a lively pretty girl,

With nothing to do but be agreeable,

And she performed her mission most successfully.

The parlor was always bright and attractive,

The chessboard ready,

The piano in tune,

Plenty of gay gossip,

And a nice little supper set forth in tempting style.

John would have preferred his own fireside if it had not been so lonely,

But as it was,

He gratefully took the next best thing and enjoyed his neighbor's society.

Meg rather approved of the new arrangement at first,

And found it a relief to know that John was having a good time,

Instead of dozing in the parlor or tramping about the house and waking the children.

But by and by,

When the teething worry was over and the idols went to sleep at proper hours,

Leaving Mama time to rest,

She began to miss John,

And find her work basket dull company,

When he was not sitting opposite in his own dressing gown,

Comfortably scorching his slippers on the fender.

She would not ask him to stay at home,

But felt injured because he did not know that she wanted him,

Without being told,

Entirely forgetting that many evenings he had waited for her in vain.

She was nervous and worn out with watching and worry,

And in that unreasonable frame of mind,

Which the best of mothers occasionally experience,

When domestic cares oppress them,

Want of exercise robs them of cheerfulness,

And too much devotion to that idol of American woman,

The teapot,

Makes them feel as if they were all nerve,

And no muscle.

Yes,

She would say,

Looking in the glass,

I'm getting old and ugly.

John doesn't find me interesting any longer,

So he leaves his faded wife and goes to see his pretty neighbor,

Who has no encumbrances.

Well,

The babies love me.

They don't care if I'm thin and pale and haven't time to crimp my hair.

They are my comfort,

And someday John will see what I've gladly sacrificed for them,

Won't he,

My precious?

To which pathetic appeal Daisy would answer with a coo,

Or Demi with a crow,

And Meg would put by her lamentations for a maternal revel,

Which soothed her solitude for the time being.

But the pain increased as politics absorbed John,

Who was always running over to discuss interesting points with Scott,

Quite unconscious that Meg missed him.

Not a word did she say,

However,

Till her mother found her in tears one day,

And insisted on knowing what the matter was,

For Meg's drooping spirits had not escaped her observation.

I wouldn't tell anyone except you,

Mother,

But I really do need advice,

For if John goes on much longer,

I might as well be widowed,

Replied Miss Brooke,

Drying her tears on Daisy's bib with an injured air.

Goes on how,

My dear?

Asked her mother anxiously.

He's away all day,

And at night when I want to see him,

He's continually going over to Scott's.

It isn't fair that I should have the hardest work and never any amusement.

Men are very selfish,

Even the best of them.

So are women.

Don't blame John till you see where you are wrong yourself.

But it can't be right for him to neglect me.

Don't you neglect him?

My mother,

I thought you'd take my part.

So I do,

As far as sympathizing goes.

But I think the fault is yours,

Meg.

I don't see how.

Let me show you.

Did John ever neglect you,

As you call it,

While you made it a point to give him your society of an evening,

His only leisure time?

No,

But I can't do it now,

With two babies to tend.

I think you could,

Dear,

And I think you ought.

May I speak quite freely,

And will you remember that it's mother who blames as well as mother who sympathizes?

Indeed I will.

Speak to me as if I were little Meg again.

I often feel as if I needed teaching more now than ever since these babies look to me for everything.

Meg drew her low chair beside her mother's,

And with a little interruption in either lap,

The two women rocked and talked lovingly together,

Feeling that the tie of motherhood made them more one than ever.

You have only made the mistake that most young wives make,

Forgotten your duty to your husband and your love for your children.

A very natural and forgivable mistake,

Meg,

But one that had better be remedied before you take to different ways.

For children should draw you nearer than ever,

Not separate you,

As if they were all yours,

And John had nothing to do but support them.

I've seen it for some weeks but have not spoken,

Feeling sure it would come right in time.

I'm afraid it won't.

If I ask him to stay he'll think I'm jealous,

And I wouldn't insult him by such an idea.

He doesn't see that I want him,

And I don't know how to tell him without words.

Make it so pleasant he won't want to go away.

My dear,

He's longing for his little home,

But it isn't home without you,

And you're always in the nursery.

Oughtn't I be there?

Not all the time.

Too much confinement makes you nervous,

And then you are unfitted for everything.

Besides,

You owe something to John as well as to the babies.

Don't neglect husband for children.

Don't shut him out of the nursery but teach him how to help in it.

His place is there as well as yours,

And the children need him.

Let him feel that he has a part to do,

And he will do it gladly and faithfully,

And it will be better for you all.

You really think so,

Mother?

I know it,

Meg,

For I've tried it,

And I seldom give advice unless I know it's proved practical.

When you and Joe were little,

I went on just as you are,

Feeling as if I didn't do my duties unless I devoted myself wholly to you.

Poor Father took to his books after I refused all offers of help and left me to try my experiment alone.

I struggled along as well I could,

But Joe was too much for me.

I nearly spoiled her by indulgence.

You were poorly,

And I worried about you till I fell sick myself.

Then Father came to the rescue,

Quietly managed everything,

And made himself so helpful that I saw my mistake,

And never have been able to get on without him since.

That is the secret of our home happiness.

He does not let business wean him from the little cares and duties that affect us all,

And I try not to let domestic worries destroy my interest in his pursuits.

Each do our part alone in many things,

But at home we work together always.

It is so,

Mother,

And my great wish is to be to my husband and children what you've been to yours.

Show me how,

I'll do anything you say.

You always were my docile daughter.

Well,

Dear,

If I were you,

I'd let John have more to do with the management of Demi,

For the boy needs training,

And it's none too soon to begin.

Then I'd do what I've often proposed,

Let Hannah come and help you.

She is a capital nurse,

And you may trust the precious babies to her while you do more housework.

You need the exercise,

Hannah would enjoy the rest,

And John would find his wife again.

Go out more,

Keep cheerful as well as busy,

For you are the sunshine maker of the family,

And if you get dismal there is no fair weather.

Then I try to take an interest in whatever John likes,

Talk with him,

Let him read to you,

Exchange ideas,

And help each other in that way.

Don't shut yourself up in a band box because you're a woman,

But understand what is going on,

And educate yourself to take your part in the world's work,

For it all affects you and yours.

John is so sensible,

I'm afraid he'll think I'm stupid if I ask questions about politics and things.

I don't believe he would.

Love covers a multitude of sins,

And of whom could you ask more freely than of him?

Try it,

And see if he doesn't find your society far more agreeable than Mrs.

Scott's suppers.

I will,

Poor John.

I'm afraid I've neglected him sadly,

But I thought I was right,

And he never said anything.

He tried not to be selfish,

But he has felt rather forlorn,

I fancy.

This is just the time,

Meg,

When young married people are apt to grow apart,

And the very time when they ought to be most together,

For the first tenderness soon wears off unless care is taken to preserve it.

And no time is so beautiful and precious to parents as the first years of the little lives given to them to train.

Don't let John be a stranger to the babies,

For they will do more to keep him safe and happy in this world of trial and temptation than anything else,

And through them you will learn to know and love one another as you should.

Now,

Dear,

Goodbye.

Think over mother's preachment,

Act upon it if it seems good,

And God bless you all.

Meg did think it over,

Found it good,

And acted upon it,

Though the first attempt was not made exactly as she planned to have it.

Of course the children tyrannized over her,

And ruled the house as soon as they found out that kicking and squalling brought them whatever they wanted.

Mama was an abject slave to their caprices,

But Papa was not so easily subjugated and occasionally afflicted,

His tender spouse,

By an attempt at paternal discipline with his obstreperous son.

For Demi inherited a trifle of his sire's firmness of character,

We won't call it obstinacy,

And when he made up his little mind to have or do anything,

All the king's horses and all the king's men could not change that pretentious little mind.

Mama thought the dear too young to be taught to conquer his prejudices,

But Papa believed that it's never too soon to learn obedience.

So Master Demi early discovered that when he undertook to wrestle with Papa,

He always got the worst of it.

Yet,

Like an Englishman,

Baby respected the man who conquered him,

And loved the father whose grave no-no was more impressive than all of Mama's loving pets.

A few days after the talk with her mother,

Meg resolved to try a social evening with John,

So she ordered a nice supper,

Set the parlor in order,

Dressed herself prettily,

And put the children to bed early,

That nothing should interfere with her experiment.

But unfortunately,

Demi's most unconquerable prejudice was against going to bed,

And that night he decided to go on a rampage.

So poor Meg sang and rocked,

Told stories,

And tried every sleep-provoking while she could devise,

But all in vain.

The big eyes wouldn't shut,

And long after Daisy had gone to Bilo,

Like the chubby little good bunch of nature she was,

Naughty Demi lay staring at the light,

With the most discouragingly wide-awake expression of countenance.

Will Demi lie still like a good boy while Mama runs down and gives poor Papa his tea?

Asked Meg,

As the hall door softly closed,

And the well-known step went tiptoeing into the dining room.

Me has tea?

Said Demi,

Preparing to join in the revel.

No,

But I'll save you some little cakeys for breakfast,

If you'll go bye-bye like Daisy.

Will you,

Lovey?

Yes,

And Demi shut his eyes tight,

As if to catch sleep in a hurry for the desired day.

Taking advantage of the moment,

Meg slipped away and ran to greet her husband with a smiling face,

And the little blue bow in her hair,

Which was his special admiration.

He saw it at once,

And said with pleased surprise,

Why,

Little mother,

How gay we are to-night!

Do you expect company?

Only you,

Dear.

Is it a birthday,

Anniversary,

Or anything?

No,

I'm tired of being dowdy,

So I dressed up as a change.

You always make yourself nice for table,

No matter how tired you are,

So why shouldn't I when I have time?

I do it out of respect for you,

My dear,

Said old-fashioned John.

Ditto,

Ditto,

Mr.

Brooke,

Laughed Meg,

Looking young and pretty again,

As she nodded to him over the teapot.

Well,

It's altogether delightful,

And like old times.

This tastes right.

I drink your health,

Dear,

And John sipped his tea with an air of reproachful rapture,

Which was of short duration,

However,

For as he put down the cup,

The door-handled rattled mysteriously and a little voice was heard saying impatiently,

Apitoy,

Misdamen.

It's that naughty boy.

I told him to go to sleep alone,

And here he is downstairs,

Getting his death of cold,

Pattering over that canvas,

Said Meg,

Answering the call.

Morning now,

Announced Demi,

In joyful tone as he entered with his long nightgown gracefully festooned over his arm,

And every curl bobbing gaily as he pranced about the table,

Eyeing the cakeys with loving glances.

No,

It isn't morning yet.

You must go to bed and not trouble poor Mama,

Then you can have the little cake with sugar on it.

Demi loves Par-Par,

Said the artful one,

Preparing to climb the paternal knee and revel in forbidden joys,

But John shook his head and said to Meg,

If you told him to stay up there and go to sleep alone,

Make him do it,

Or he will never learn to mind you.

Yes,

Of course.

Come,

Demi,

And Meg led her son away,

Feeling a strong desire to spank the little Marplot who hopped beside her,

Laboring under the delusion that the bribe was to be administered as soon as he reached the nursery.

Nor was he disappointed,

For that short-sighted woman actually gave him a lump of sugar,

Tucked him into bed,

And forbade any more promenades till morning.

Yes,

Said Demi the perjured,

Blissfully sucking his sugar,

And regarding his first attempt as eminently successful.

Meg returned to her place,

And supper was progressing pleasantly,

When the little ghost walked again,

And exposed the maternal delinquency by boldly demanding,

More sugar,

Mar-Mar.

Now this won't do,

Said John,

Hearting his heart against the engaging little sinner.

We shall never know any peace till that child learns to go to bed properly.

You have made a slave of yourself long enough.

Give him one lesson,

And then there will be an end of it.

Put him to his bed and leave him,

Meg.

He won't stay there.

He never does unless I sit by him.

I'll manage him.

Demi,

Go upstairs and get in your bed as Mama bids you.

Sant,

Replied the young rebel,

Helping himself to the coveted cakey,

And beginning to eat the same with calm audacity.

You must never say that to Papa.

I shall carry you if you don't go yourself.

Go away.

Me don't love Papa,

Said Demi,

Retired to his mother's skirts for protection.

But even that refuge proved unavailing,

For he was delivered over to the enemy,

With a Be gentle with him,

John,

Which struck the culprit with dismay,

For when Mama deserted him,

Then the judgment day was at hand.

Bereft of his cake,

Defrauded of his frolic,

And borne away by a strong hand to that detested bed,

Poor Demi could not restrain his wrath,

But openly defied Papa and kicked and screamed lustily all the way upstairs.

The minute he was put into bed on one side,

He rolled out on the other and made for the door,

Only to be caught by the tail of his little toga and put back again,

Which lively performance was kept up till the young man's strength gave out,

When he devoted himself to roaring at the top of his voice.

This vocal exercise usually conquered Meg,

But John sat as unmoved as the post,

Which is popularly believed to be deaf.

No coaxing,

No sugar,

No lullaby,

No story,

Even the light was put out in only the red glow of the fire,

Enlivened the big dark,

Which Demi regarded with curiosity rather than fear.

This new order of things disgusted him,

And he howled dismally for Marmar,

As his angry passion subsided and recollections of the tender bondwoman returned to the captive.

The plaintive wail which succeeded the passionate roar went to Meg's heart,

And she ran up to say beseechingly,

Let me stay with him,

He'll be good now,

John.

No my dear,

I've told him he must go to sleep,

As you bid him,

And he must if I'm to stay here all night.

But he'll cry himself sick,

Pleaded Meg,

Reproaching herself for deserting her boy.

No he won't,

He's so tired he'll soon drop off,

And then the matter is settled.

For he will understand that he's got to mine.

Don't interfere,

I'll manage him.

He's my child,

And I can't have his spirit broken by harshness.

He's my child,

And I won't have his temper spoiled by indulgence.

Go down,

My dear,

And leave the boy with me.

When John spoke in that masterful tone,

Meg always obeyed,

And never regretted her docility.

Please let me kiss him once,

John.

Certainly.

Demi say goodnight to Mama,

And let her go and rest,

For she is very tired with taking care of you all day.

Meg always insisted upon it when the kiss won the victory,

For after it was given,

Demi sobbed more quietly,

And lay quite still at the bottom of the bed,

Whither he had wiggled in his anguish of mine.

Poor little man,

He's worn out with sleep and crying.

I'll cover him up,

And then go and set Meg's heart at rest,

Thought John,

Creeping to the bedside,

Hoping to find his rebellious heir asleep.

But he wasn't.

For the moment his father peeped at him,

Demi's eyes opened,

His little chin began to quiver,

And he put up his arms,

Saying with a penitent hiccup,

Me's good now.

Sitting on the stairs outside,

Meg wondered at the long silence which followed the uproar,

And after imagining all sorts of impossible accidents,

She slipped into the room to set her fears at rest.

Demi lay fast asleep,

Not in his usual spread-eagle attitude,

But in a subdued bunch,

Cuddled close in the circle of his father's arms,

And holding his father's finger,

As if he felt that justice was tempered with mercy,

And had gone to sleep a sadder and wiser baby.

So held,

John had waited with a womanly patience till the little hand relaxed its hold,

And while waiting had fallen asleep,

More tired by that tussle with his son than with his whole day's work.

As Meg stood watching the two faces on the pillow,

She smiled to herself,

And then slipped away again,

Saying in a satisfied tone,

I never need fear that John will be too harsh with my babies.

He does know how to manage them,

And will be a great help,

For Demi's getting too much for me.

When John came down at last expecting to find a pensive or reproachful wife,

He was agreeably surprised to find Meg placidly trimming a bonnet,

And to be greeted with the request to read something about the election if he was not too tired.

John saw in a minute that a revolution of some kind was going on,

But wisely asked no questions knowing that Meg was such a transparent little person,

She couldn't keep a secret to save her life,

And therefore the clue would soon appear.

He read a long debate,

With the most amiable readiness,

And then explained it in his most lucid manner,

While Meg tried to look deeply interested,

To ask intelligent questions,

And keep her thoughts from wandering from the state of the nation to the state of her bonnet.

In her secret soul,

However,

She decided that politics were as bad as mathematics,

And that the mission of politicians seemed to be calling each other names,

But she kept those feminine ideas to herself,

And when John paused,

Shook her head and said,

With what she thought diplomatic ambiguity,

Well,

I really don't see what we are coming to.

John laughed,

And watched her for a minute,

As she poised a pretty little preparation of lace and flowers on her hand,

And regarded it with genuine interest.

She is trying to like politics for my sake,

So I'll try and like millinery for hers,

That's only fair,

Thought John with just,

Adding aloud,

That's very pretty,

Is it what you call a breakfast cap?

My dear man,

It's a bonnet,

My very best go-to-concert-and-theater bonnet,

I beg your pardon,

It was so small,

I naturally mistook it for one of the fly-away things you sometimes wear,

How do you keep it on?

These bits of lace are fastened under the chin with a rosebud,

So,

And Meg illustrated by putting on the bonnet,

And regarding him with the air of calm satisfaction that was irresistible.

It's a love of a bonnet,

But I prefer the face inside,

For it looks young and happy again,

And John kissed the smiling face,

To the great detriment of the rosebud under the chin.

I'm glad you like it,

For I want you to take me to one of the new concerts some night,

I really need some music to put me in tune,

Will you please?

Of course I will,

With all my heart,

Or anywhere else you like,

You've been shut up for so long,

It will do you so much good,

And I enjoy it,

Of all things.

What put it in your head,

Little mother?

Well,

I had a talk with Marmy the other day,

And told her how nervous and cross and out of sorts I felt,

And she said I needed change and less care,

So Hannah is to help me with the children,

And I'm to see things about the house more,

And now and then have a little fun,

Just to keep me from getting to be a fidgety broken down old woman before my time.

It's only an experiment,

John,

And I want to try it for your sake,

As much as for mine,

Because I've neglected you shamefully lately,

And I'm going to make home when it used to be if I can.

You don't object,

I hope?

Never mind what John said,

Or what a very narrow escape the little bonnet had from utter ruin.

All that we have any business to know is that John did not appear to object,

Judging from the changes which gradually took place in the house and its inmates.

It was not all paradise by any means,

But every one was better for the division of labor system.

The children drove under the paternal rule,

For accurate,

Steadfast John brought order and obedience into babydom,

While Meg recovered her spirits and composed her nerves by plenty of wholesome exercise,

A little pleasure,

And much confidential conversation with her sensible husband.

Home grew home-like again,

And John had no wish to leave it unless he took Meg with him.

The Scotts came to the Brooks now,

And everyone found the little house a cheerful place,

Full of happiness,

Content,

And family love.

Even Sally Moffat liked to go there.

It was always so quiet and pleasant here,

Does me good Meg,

She used to say,

Looking about her with wistful eyes,

As of trying to discover the charm,

That she might use it in her great house,

Full of splendid loneliness,

For there were no riotous,

Sunny-faced babies there,

And Ned lived in a world of his own,

Where there was no place for her.

This household happiness did not come all at once,

But John and Meg had found the key to it,

And each year of married life taught them how to use it,

Unlocking the treasuries of real home love,

And mutual helpfulness,

Which the poorest may possess,

And the richest cannot buy.

This is the sort of shelf on which young wives and mothers may consent to be laid,

Safe from the reckless fret and fever of the world,

Finding loyal lovers in the little sons and daughters who cling to them,

Undaunted by sorrow,

Poverty,

Or age,

Walking side by side,

Through fair and stormy weather,

With the faithful friend who is,

In the true sense of the good old Saxon word,

The house band,

And learning,

As Meg learned,

That a woman's happiest kingdom is home,

Her highest honor the art of ruling it not as a queen,

But as a wise wife and mother.

And that is the end of our story tonight.

Until next time,

Sweet dreams.

Reviews

You have the most gorgeous voice and it suits this book so beautifully. Thank you for this chapter

I read this book so many years ago and don’t remember the later chapters, I’m enjoying what I hear before drifting off to sleep. Thank you! ❤️

P.S. I read that you had surgery and are recovering, I hope you are 100% soon. Rest well and take care of yourself! 💖💖