Shoes and Stockings, a collection of short stories by Louisa May Alcott. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Carolyn Francis. Aunt Kip, Part 2, by Louisa May Alcott. Sophie, I'm surprised at your want of judgment. Do you really mean to let your girl marry this lamb? Why, the man's a fool!" began Aunt Kip, after dinner, by way of opening a pleasant conversation with her relatives. Dear me, Aunt, how can you know that when you never saw him, mildly returned Mrs. Snow? I've heard of him, and that's enough for me.  The amiable old lady thought this would rouse Polly, against whom her anger still burned hotly. But Polly also possessed penetration. And well-knowing that contradiction would delight Aunt Kip, she completely took the wind out of her sails by coolly remarking, I like fools. Bless my heart, what does the girl mean, ejaculated Aunt Kip? Just what I say, if Van is a fool, I prefer simpletons to wise-acres. I know he is shy and awkward, and does absurd things now and then, but I also know that he has the kindest heart that ever was, is unselfish, faithful and loving, that he took good care of his old parents till they died, and never thought of himself while they needed him. He loves me dearly, will wait for me a dozen years if I say so, and work all his days to make me happy. He's a help and a comfort to mother, a good friend to Toadie, and I love and respect and am proud of him, though you do say he is a fool, cried Polly heartily. And you insist on marrying him, demanded Aunt Kip? Yes, I do. Then I wish a carriage immediately, was the somewhat irrelevant reply. Why, Aunt, you don't mean to go so soon, cried Mrs. Snow, with a reproachful glance at the rebellious Polly. Far from it, I wish to see Judge Banks about altering my will, was the awful answer.  Toadie, who had hovered about the door, uttered a suppressed whistle of dismay, and Mrs. Kip looked about her with vengeful satisfaction.  It was like Aunt Kip to invite her poor relations to go and nip their own noses off, as she elegantly expressed it. It was a party of pleasure that just suited her, for all the fun was on her side. She grew affable at once, was quite pressing in her invitation, regretted that Sophie was too busy to go, praised Polly's hat, and professed herself quite satisfied with that dear boy for a driver. The dear boy distorted his young countenance frightfully behind her back, but found a balm for every wound in the delight of being commander of the expedition. The big carry-all appeared, and with much creaking and swaying, Mrs. Kip was got into the back seat, where the big bonnet gloomed like a thunder cloud. Polly, in a high state of indignation, which only made her look ten times prettier, sat in front with Toadie, who was a sight to see as he drove off with his short legs planted against the boot, his elbow squared, and the big whip scientifically cracking now and then, away they went, leaving poor Mrs. Snow to bewail herself dismally after she had smiled and nodded them out of sight. Don't go over any bridges or railroad crossings or by any sawmills, said the old lady, as if the town could be suddenly remodeled to suit her taste. Yesum, returned Toadie with a crack which would have done honour to a French pastillion. It was a fine day, and the young people would have enjoyed the ride in spite of the breakers ahead if Aunt Kip hadn't entertained the girl with a glowing account of the splendours of her own wedding, and aggravated the boy by frequent pokes and directions in the art of driving, of which she was, of course, profoundly ignorant. Polly couldn't restrain a tear or two in thinking of her own poor little prospects, and Toadie was goaded to desperation. I'll give her a regular shaking up. It'll make her hold her tongue and do her good, he said to himself, as a stony hill sloped temptingly before him, a sly chuck, and some mysterious manoeuvre with the reins, and Bob started off at a brisk trot, as if he objected to the old lady as much as her mischievous little nephew.  I'm holding him, but he will go, said Toadie, with a wicked triumph in his eye, as he glanced back at Polly. The next minute the words were quite true, for as he spoke, two or three distracted hens flew squalling over the wall and scattered about under, over, and before the horse, as only distracted hens could do. It was too much for Bob's nerves, and taking matters into his own hands or feet, rather, he broke into a run and rattled the old lady over the stones with a velocity which left her speechless. Polly laughed, and Toadie chuckled, as they caught glimpses of the awful bonnet vibrating wildly in the background, and felt the frantic clutchings of the old lady's hands. But both grew sober, as a shrill car whistle sounded not far off, and Bob, as if possessed by an evil spirit, turned suddenly into the road that led to the railroad crossing. That will do, Toadie, now pull up, for we can't get over in time, said Polly, glancing anxiously toward the rapidly approaching puffs of white smoke. I can't, Polly! I really can't! cried the boy, tugging with all his might and beginning to look scared. Polly lent her aid, but Bob scarcely seemed to feel it, for he had been a racer once, and when his blood was up he was hard to handle. His own good sense might have checked him if Aunt Kip hadn't, unfortunately, recovered her voice at this crisis, and uttered a succession of the shrillest screams that ever saluted mortal ears. With a snort and a bound, Bob dashed straight on toward the crossing, as the train appeared round the bend. Let me out! Let me out! Jump! shrieked Aunt Kip, thrusting her head out the window, while she fumbled madly for the door handle.   Don't hell! We'll do it! Hi, Bob! And with a savage slash of the whip, an exciting cry, a terrible reeling and rattling, they did do it, for Bob cleared the track at a breakneck pace, just in time for the train to sweep swiftly by behind them. Aunt Kip dropped in a heap, Polly looked up at her brother with a look which he never forgot, and Toadie tried to say stoutly, It's all right, with lips that were white and dry in spite of himself. We shall smash up at the bridge, he muttered, as they tore through the town, where everyone obligingly shouted, waved their hats, and danced about on the sidewalks, doing nothing but add to Bob's fright and the party's danger. But Toadie was wrong, they did not smash up at the bridge, for before they reached the perilous spot, one man had the sense to fly straight at the horse's head, and hold on till the momentary check enabled others to lend a hand. The instant they were safe, Polly, like a regular heroine, threw herself into the arms of her disheveled preserver, who of course was Van, and would have refreshed herself with hysterics if the side of Toadie hadn't studied her. The boy sat as stiff and rigid as a wooden figure till they took the reins from him. And all the strength seemed to go out of him, and he leaned against his sister, as white and trembling as she, whispering with an irresistible sob. Oh Polly, wasn't it horrid? Tell Mother I stood by you like a man, do tell her that! If anyone had had time or heart to laugh, they certainly would have done it when, after much groping, heaving, and hoisting, Mrs. Kipp was extracted and restored to consciousness, for more ludicrously deplorable spectacle was seldom seen. Quite unhurt, though much shaken, the old lady insisted on believing herself to be dying, and kept the town in affirmant till three doctors had pronounced her perfectly well able to go home. Then the perversity of her nature induced her to comply, that she might have the satisfaction of dying on the way, and proving herself in the right. Unfortunately she did not expire, but having safely arrived, went to bed in high dungeon, and led Polly and her mother a sad life of it for two weary days. Having heard of Toadie's gallant behavior, she solemnly ordered him up to receive her blessing. But the sight of Aunt Kipp's Rubicon visage, surrounded by the stiff frills of an immense nightcap, caused the irreverent boy to explode with laughter in his handkerchief, and to be hustled away by his mother, before Aunt Kipp discovered the true cause of his convulsed appearance. Ah, poor dear, his feelings are too much for him. He sees my doom in my face, and is overcome by what you refuse to believe. I shan't forget that boy's devotion. Now leave me to the meditations befitting these solemn hours. Mrs. Snow retired, and Aunt Kipp tried to sleep, but the murmur of voices, and the sound of stifled laughter in the next room disturbed her repose. They are rejoicing over my approaching end, knowing that I haven't changed my will. Mercenary creatures don't exult too soon, there's time yet, she muttered, and presently, unable to control her curiosity, she crept out of bed to listen, and peep through the keyhole. Enbar Lamb did look rather like a sheep. He had a blonde curly head, a long face, pale, mild eyes, a plaintive voice, and a general expression of innocent timidity, strongly suggestive of animated mutton. But Ba-ba was a trump, as Toadie emphatically declared, and though everyone laughed at him, everyone liked him, and that is more than can be said of many saints and sages. He adored Polly, was dutifully kind to her mother, and had stood by T. Snow Jr. in many an hour of tribulation with fraternal fidelity. Though he had long blushed, sighed, and cast sheep eyes at the idol of his affections, only till lately had he dared to bleed forth his passion. Polly loved him because she couldn't help it. But she was proud, and wouldn't marry till Aunt Kip's money was hers, or at least a sure prospect of it. And now, even the prospect of a prospect was destroyed by the irrepressible Toadie. They were talking of this as the old lady suspected, and, of course, the following conversation afforded her intense satisfaction. It's a shame to torment us, as she does, knowing how poor we are and how happy a little of her money would make us.  If it was not for a mother, I'd declare I'd wash my hands of her entirely and do the best I could for myself. Hooray for Polly! I always said let her money go and be jolly without it, cried Toadie, who, in his character of wounded hero, reposed with a lordly air on the sofa, enjoying the fragrance of the opedel doc with which his strained wrists were bandaged. It's on your account, children, that I bear with Aunt's temper, as I do. I don't want anything for myself, but I really think she does owe it to your dear father, who was devoted to her while he lived, to provide for his children when he couldn't. After which remarkably spirited speech for her, Mrs. Snow dropped a tear and stitched away on a small trouser leg which was suffering from a complicated compound fracture. Don't you worry about me, mother. I'll take care of myself and you, too," remarked Toadie, with the cheery belief in impossibilities which makes youth so charming. Now, Van, tell us what to do, for things have come to such a pass that we must either break away altogether or be galley slaves as long as Aunt Kip lives, said Polly, who was a good deal excited about the matter. Well, really, my dear, I don't know, hesitated Van, who did know what he wanted, but thought it might be selfish to urge it. Have you tried to soften your aunt's heart? He asked after a moment's meditation. Good gracious, Van! She hasn't got any, cried Polly, who firmly believed it. It's ossified, thoughtfully remarked Toadie, quite unconscious of any approach to a joke till everyone giggled. You've had ossification enough for a while, my lad, laughed Van. Well, Polly, if the old lady has no heart, you'd better let her go, for people without hearts are not worth much. That's a beautiful remark, Van, and a wise one. I just wish she could hear you make it, for she called you a fool, said Polly, irefully. Did she? Well, I don't mind, I'm used to it, returned Van placidly, and so he was, for Polly called him a goose every day of her life, and he enjoyed it immensely. Then you think, dear, if we stopped worrying about Aunt and her money, and worked instead of waiting, that we shouldn't be any poorer and might be a great deal happier than we are now, asked Polly, making a pretty little tableau, as she put her hand through Van's arm, and looked up at him with as much love, respect, and reliance as if he had been six feet tall, with the face of an Apollo, and the manners of a Chesterfield. Yes, my dear, I do, for it has troubled me a good deal to see you so badgered by that very uncomfortable old lady. Independence is a very nice thing, and poverty isn't half as bad as this sort of slavery, but you are not going to be poor, no worry about anything. We'll just be married and take Mother and Totie home, and be as jolly as Griggs, and never think of Mrs. K. again, unless she loses her fortune or gets sick, or comes to grief in any way. We'd lend her a hand, then, wouldn't we, Polly? And Van's mild face was pleasant to behold, as he made the kindly proposition. Well, we'd think of it, said Polly, trying not to relent, but feeling that she was going very fast. Let's do it, cried Totie, fired with the thought of privy conspiracy and rebellion. Mother would be so comfortable with Polly, and I'd help Van in the store when I've learned that confounded multiplication table, he added with a groan. And if Aunt Kipp comes a visiting, we'll just say, not at home, and let her trot off again. It sounds very nice, but Aunt will be dreadfully offended, and I don't wish to be ungrateful, said Mrs. Snow, brightening visibly. There's no ingratitude about it, cried Van. She might have done everything to make you love and respect and admire her, and been a happy, useful, motherly old soul. But she didn't choose to, and now she must take the consequences. No one cares for her, because she cares for nobody. Her money's the plague of her life, and not a single heart will ache when she dies. Poor Aunt Kipp, said Polly softly. Mrs.  Even Toadie had a kind thought for her as he broke the silence, saying soberly, You'd better put tails on my jacket's mother, then the next time we get run away with, Aunt Kipp will have something to hold on by. It was impossible to help laughing at the recollection of the old lady clutching at the boy till he had hardly a button left, and at the paternal air with which he now proposed a much-desired change of costume, as if intent on Aunt Kipp's future accommodation. Under cover of the laugh the old lady stole back to bed wide awake, and was subjects enough to meditate upon now. The shaking up had certainly done her good, for somehow the few virtues she possessed came to the surface, and the mental shower-bath just received had produced a solitary change. Polly wouldn't have doubted her aunt's possession of a heart if she could have known the pain and loneliness that made it ache, as the old woman crept away. And Totie wouldn't have laughed if he had seen the tears on the face between the big frills as Aunt Kipp laid it on the pillow muttering drearily. I might have been a happy useful woman, but I didn't choose to, and now it's too late. It was too late to be all she might have been, for the work of seventy selfish years couldn't be undone in a minute. But with regret rose the sincere wish to earn a little love before the end came, and the old perversity gave a relish to the Reformation, for even while she resolved to do the just and generous thing she said to herself, They say I've got no heart. I'll show them that I have. They don't want my money. I'll make them take it. They turn their backs on me. I'll just render myself so useful and agreeable that they can't do without me. End of Part Two Shoes and Stockings, a collection of short stories by Louisa May Alcott. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Carolyn Francis. Ant Kip, Part Three, by Louisa May Alcott. Ant Kip sat bolt upright in the parlor, hemming a small handkerchief adorned with a red ship surrounded by a border of green monkeys. Toadie suspected that this elegant article of dress was intended for him and yearned to possess it. So taking advantage of his mother's and Polly's absence, he strolled into the room and, seating himself on a high hard chair, folded his hands, crossed his legs, and asked for a story with a thirsting for knowledge heir, which little boys wear in the moral story books. Now Ant Kip had one soft place in her heart, though it was partially ossified, as she very truly declared, and Toadie was enshrined therein. She thought there never was such a child and loved him as she had done his father before him, though the rack wouldn't have forced her to confess it. She scolded, snubbed, and predicted he'd come to a bad end in public, but she forgave his naughtiest pranks, always brought him something when she came, and privately intended to make his future comfortable with half of her fortune. There was a dash and daring, a generosity and integrity about the little fellow that charmed her. Sophie was weak and low-spirited, Polly pretty and headstrong, and Ant Kip didn't think much of either of them. But Toadie defied, distracted, and delighted her, and to Toadie she clung as the one sunshiny thing in her sour, selfish old age. When he made his demure request, she looked at him, and her eyes began to twinkle for the child's purpose was plainly seen in the loving glances cast upon the pictorial pocket handkerchief. A story? Yes, I'll tell you one about a little boy who had a kind old, hum, grandma. She was rich and hadn't made up her mind who she'd leave her money to. She was fond of the boy, a deal-fonder than he deserved, for he was as mischievous a monkey as any that ever lived in a tree with a curly tail. He put pepper in her snuff box. Here Toadie turned scarlet. He cut up her best for set to make a mane for his rocking horse.   Here Toadie wriggled in his chair and gave a little gasp. If you are tired, I won't go on, observed and kip mildly. I'm not tired of him. It's a very interesting story, replied Toadie with a gravity that nearly upset the old lady. Well, in spite of all this, that kind, good, forgiving grandma left that bad boy twenty thousand dollars when she died. What do you think of that?" asked Aunt Kip, pausing suddenly with her sharp eye on him. I—I think she was a regular deer! cried Toadie, holding on to the chair with both hands, as if that climax rather took him off his legs. And what did the boy do about it? continued Aunt Kip curiously. He bought a velocypied, and gave his sister half, and paid his mother's rent, and put a splendid marble shirakin' over the old lady, and had a jolly good time, and—what in the world is a shirakin?' laughed Aunt Kip, as Toadie paused for breath. Why, don't you know? It's an angel crying or pointing up, or flapping his wings. They have them over graves, and I'll give you the biggest one I can find when you die, but I'm not in a very great hurry to have you. Thank ye, dear. I'm in no hurry myself. But Toadie, the boy did wrong in giving his sister half. She didn't deserve any. And the grandma left words she wasn't to have a penny of it. Really? cried the boy with a troubled face. Yes, really. If he gave her any, he lost it all. The old lady said so. Now what do you think? asked Aunt Kip, who found it impossible to pardon Polly, perhaps because she was young and pretty and much beloved.  I think she was a selfish pig. Don't you? No, I don't, sir.  He minded his grandma's wishes and kept it all. No, he didn't, roared Toadie, tumbling off his chair in great excitement. He just threw it out the window and smashed the old cherican all to bits. Aunt Kip dropped her work with a shrill squeak, for she thought the boy was dangerous as he stood before her, sparring away at nothing as the only vent for his indignation. It isn't an interesting story, he cried. And I won't hear any more, and I won't have your money if I may go haves with Polly. And I'll work to earn more than that, and we'll all be jolly together, and you may give your twenty thousand to the old rag bags, and so I tell you, Aunt Kip. Why Toadie, my boy, what's the matter? cried a mild voice at the door as young Lamb came trotting up to the rescue. Never you mind, Baba. I shan't do it. And it's a mean shame Polly can't have half. Then she could marry you and be so happy, blubbered Toadie running to try to hide his tears of disappointment in the coat skirts of his friend. Mr. Lamb, I suppose you are that misguided young man, asked Aunt Kip as if it was a personal insult to herself. Van Bar Lamb, ma'am, if you please. Yes, thank you, murmured Baba, bowing, blushing, and rumbling his curly fleece in bashful trepidation. Don't thank me, cried the old lady. I'm not going to give you anything. Far from it. I object to you altogether. What business have you to come courting my niece? Because I love her, ma'am, returned Van with unexpected spirit. No, you don't. You want her money, or rather my money. She depends on it. But you'll both be disappointed for she won't have a penny of it, cried Aunt Kip, who, in spite of her good resolutions, found it impossible to be amiable all at once. I'm glad of it, burst out Van, indignant at her accusation. I didn't want Polly for the money. I always doubted if she got it, and I never wished her to make herself a slave to anybody. I've got enough for all if we're careful, and when my share of the Van Bar property comes, we shall live in clover. What's that? What property are you talking of? demanded Aunt Kip, pricking up her ears. The great Van Bar estate, ma'am. There has been a long lawsuit about it, but it's nearly settled, and there isn't much doubt that we shall get it. I am the last of our branch, and my share will be a large one. Oh, indeed! I wish you joy, said Aunt Kip, with sudden affability, for she adored wealth, like a few other persons in the world. But suppose you don't get it? How then? Then I shall try to be contented with my salary of two thousand, and make Polly as happy as I can. Money doesn't always make people happy or agreeable, I find. And Van looked at Aunt Kip in a way that would have made her hair stand erect if she had possessed any. She stared at him a moment. Then, obeying one of the odd whims that made an irascible weather-cock of her, she said abruptly, If you had capital, should you go into business for yourself, Mr. Lambkin? Yes, ma'am, at once replied Van promptly. Suppose you lost the Van Bar money, and someone offered you a tidy little sum to start with. Would you take it? It would depend upon who made the offer, ma'am, said Van, looking more like a sheep than ever, as he stood staring in blank surprise. Suppose it was me! Wouldn't you take it? asked Aunt Kip, blandly, for the new fancy pleased her. No, thank you, ma'am, said Van decidedly. And why not pray? cried the old lady with a shrillness that made him jump, and Toadie back to the door precipitively. Because, if you'll excuse my speaking plainly, I think you owe anything you may have to spare to your niece, Mrs. Snow. And, having freed his mind, Van joined Toadie, ready to fly if necessary.  Thank you, ma'am. And Van actually laughed and bowed in return for the compliment. Hold your tongue, sir, snapped the old lady.  She's no strength of mine, no sense about anything, and would make ducks and drakes of my money in less than no time if I gave it to her, as I thought of doing. Mrs. Kip, you forget who you are speaking to. Mrs. Snow's sons love and respect her if you don't, and they won't hear anything untrue or unkind, said of a good woman, a devoted mother, and an almost friendless widow. Van wasn't a dignified man at all, but, as he said that with a sudden flash of his mild eyes, there was something in his face and manner that daunted Aunt Kip more than the small fist belligerently shaken at her from behind the sofa. The poor old soul was cross and worried and ashamed of herself, and being as feeble-minded as Sophie in many respects, she suddenly burst into tears and, covering her face with the gay handkerchief, cried as if bent on flooding the red ship in a sea of salt water without delay. I'm a poor, lonely, abused old woman, she moaned, with a green monkey at each eye. No one loves me or minds me or thanks me when I want to help them. My money's only a worryman and a burden, and I don't know what to do with it, for people I don't want to leave it to ought to have it, and people I do like won't take it. Oh, dearie me, what shall I do? What shall I do? Shall I tell you, ma'am? asked Van gently, for though she was a very provoking old lady, he pitied and wished to help her. A nod and a gurgle seemed to give consent, and boldly advancing, Van said with blush and a stammer, but a very hearty voice. I think, ma'am, if you'd do the right thing with your money, you'd be at ease and find it saved a deal of worry all round. Give it to Mrs. Snow. She deserves it, poor lady, for she's had a hard time and done her duty faithfully. Don't wait till you are, that is, till you, well, till you in point of fact die, ma'am. Give it now and enjoy the happiness it will make. Give it kindly. Let them see you're glad to do it. And I am sure you'll find them grateful. I'm sure you won't be lonely anymore, or feel that you are not loved and banked. Try it, ma'am. Just try it, cried Van, getting excited by the picture he drew. And I give you my word, I'll do my best to respect and love you like a son, ma'am. He knew that he was promising a great deal, but for Polly's sake, he felt that he could make even that Herculean effort. Aunt Kipp was surprised and touched, but the contrary old lady couldn't make up her mind to yield so soon, and wouldn't have done it if Todie hadn't taken her by storm. Having a truly masculine horror of tears, a very tender heart under his tailless jacket, and being much tumbled up and down in his own mind by the events of the week, the poor little lad felt nerve to attempt any novel enterprise, even that of voluntarily embracing Aunt Kipp.  Then, peeping out, she saw an apple-cheeked face very near her own, with eyes full of pity, penitence, and affection.  I'm sorry I was rude. Please be good to Mother and Polly, and I'll love and take care of you and stand by you all my life.  I will, by George. And with one promiscuous plunge, the Spartan boy cast himself into her arms. That finished Aunt Kipp.  Oh, my dear, my dear, this is better than a dozen Cherikins. When Todie emerged, somewhat flushed and tumbled, Mrs. Snow, Polly, and Van were looking on with faces full of wonder, doubt, and satisfaction. To be an object of interest was agreeable to Aunt Kipp, and as her old heart was really softened, she met them with a gracious smile and extended the olive branch generally. Sophie, I shall give my money to you at once and entirely, only asking that you'll let me stay with you when Polly's gone. I'll do my best to be agreeable, and you'll bear with me because I'm a cranky, solitary old woman and I loved your husband. Mrs. Snow hugged her on the spot and gushed, of course, murmuring thanks, welcomes, and promises in one grateful burst. Polly, I forgive you. I consent to your marriage and will provide your wedding finery. Mr. Lamb, you are not a fool, but a very excellent young man. I thank you for saving my life, and I wish you well with all my heart. You needn't say anything. I'm far from strong and all this agitation is shortening my life. Polly and Van shook her hand heartily and beamed upon each other like a pair of infatuated turtledeves with good prospects. Totie, you are as near an angel as a boy can be. Put a name to whatever you most wish for in the world and it's yours, said Aunt Kip, dramatically waving the rest away. With his short legs wide apart, his hands behind him, and his rosy face as round and radiant as a rising sun, Totie stood before the fire surveying the scene with the air of a man who had successfully carried through a difficult and dangerous undertaking, and wasn't proud.  You can't give me what I want most. There are three things, and I've got to wait for them all. Gracious me, what are they? cried the old lady, good-naturedly, for she felt better already. A mustache, a beaver, and a sweetheart, answered Totie, with his eyes fixed wistfully on Baba, who possessed all these blessings and was particularly enjoying the latter at that moment. How Aunt Kip did laugh at this early budding of romance in her pet, and all the rest joined her, for Totie's sentimental air was irresistible. You precocious chick, I daresay you will have them all before we know where we are. Never mind, dearie, you shall have my little watch, and the silver-headed cane with a boar's head on it," answered the old lady in high good humor. You needn't blush, dear. I don't bear malice, so let's forget and forgive. I shall settle things tomorrow and have a free mind. You are welcome to my money, and I hope I shall live to see you all enjoy it. So she did, for she lived to see Sophie plump, cheery, and carefree, Polly surrounded by a flock of lambkins, van in possession of a generous slice of the van bar fortune, Totie reveling in the objects of his desire. And best of all, she lived to find that it is never too late to make oneself useful, happy, and beloved. End of Part 3 End of Aunt Kip by Louisa May Alcott Shoes and Stockings, a collection of short stories by Louisa May Alcott. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Carolyn Francis. Kitty's Class Day by Louisa May Alcott A stitch in time saves nine. Oh, Pris, Pris, I'm really going. Here's the invitation. Rough paper, chapel spreads, lyceum hall, everything splendid, and Jack to take care of me. As Kitty burst into the room and performed a rapturous passall, waving the cards over her head, Sister Priscilla looked up from her work with a smile of satisfaction on her quiet face. Who invites you, dear? Why, Jack, of course. Dear old cousin Jack, nobody else ever thinks of me or cares whether I have a bit of pleasure now and then. Isn't he kind? Maint I go?  Kitty paused suddenly as if the last all-important question had a solemnizing effect upon both mind and body. Why, your white muslin, silk sack and new hat, of course, began Pris with an air of surprise, but Kitty broke in impetuously. I'll never wear that old muslin again. It's full of darns, up to my knees, and all out of fashion. So is my sack. And as for my hat, though it does well enough here, it would be absurd for Class Day. You don't expect an entirely new suit for this occasion. Do you? asked Pris anxiously. Yes, I do. And I'll tell you how I mean to get it. I've planned everything, for though I hardly dreamed of going, I amused myself by thinking how I could manage if I did get invited. Let us hear. And Pris took up her work with an air of resignation. First my dress began, Kitty, perching herself on the arm of the sofa and entering into the subject with enthusiasm. I've got the ten dollars grandpa set me, and with eight of it I'm going to buy Lizzie King's organ de muslin. She got it in Paris, but her aunt, providently, no, unfortunately, died. So she can't wear it, and wants to get rid of it.  The skirt is cut off and gored with a splendid train. My dear, you don't mean you're going to wear one of those absurd new fashion dresses. Exclaimed Pris, lifting hands and eyes. I do. Nothing would induce me to go to Class Day without a train. It's been the desire of my heart to have one, and now I will if I never have another gown to my back. Returned Kitty with immense decision. Pris shook her head and said, Go on, as if prepared for any extravagance after that. We can make it ourselves, continued Kitty, and trim it with the same. It's white with blue stripes and daisies in the stripes. The loveliest thing you ever saw, and can't be got here. So simple, yet distinct way. I know you'll like it. Next my bonnet. Here the solemnity of Kitty's face and manner was charming to behold. I shall make it out of one of my new illusion undersleeves. I've never worn them, and the puffed part will be a plenty for a little flyaway bonnet of the latest style. I've got blue ribbons to tie it with, and have only to look up some daisies for the inside. With my extra two dollars I shall buy my gloves and pay my fares. And there I am, all complete. She looked so happy, so pretty, and full of girlish satisfaction that Sister Pris couldn't bear to disturb the little plan, much as she disapproved of it. They were poor, and every penny had to be counted. There were plenty of neighbors to gossip and criticize, and plenty of friends to make disagreeable remarks on any unusual extravagance. Pris saw things with the prudent eyes of thirty. But Kitty, with the romantic eyes of seventeen, and the elder sister, in the kindness of her heart, had no wish to sadden life to those bright young eyes, or deny the child a harmless pleasure. She soared thoughtfully for a minute, then looked up, saying with a smile that always assured Kitty the day was won. Get your things together, and we will see what can be done. But remember, dear, that it is both bad taste and bad economy for poor people to try to ape the rich.  I'll run and get the dress, and we'll begin it once, for there is much to do, and only two days to do it in. And Kitty skipped away, singing LaRanger Horatis at the top of her voice. Prisilla soon found that the girl's head was completely turned by the advice and example of certain fashionable young neighbors. It was in vain for Pris to remonstrate and warn. Just this once let me do as others do, and thoroughly enjoy myself, pleaded Kitty, and Pris yielded, saying to herself, she shall have her wish, and if she learns the lesson, neither time nor money will be lost. So they snipped, and sewed, and planned and pieced, going through all the alternations of despair and triumph, worry and satisfaction, which women undergo when a new suit is under way. Company kept coming, for news of Kitty's expedition had flown abroad, and her young friends must just run in to hear about it, and ask what she was going to wear. Kitty was so glad and proud to tell and show, and enjoy her little triumph, that many half hours were wasted, and the second day found much still to do. The lovely muslin didn't hold out, and Kitty sacrificed the waist to the train, for a train she must have, or the whole thing would be an utter failure. A little sack was eked out, however, and when the frills were on it was ravishing, as Kitty said, with a sigh of mingled delight and fatigue. The gourd skirt was a fearful job, as anyone who has ever plunged into the mysteries will testify, and before the facing, even experienced Pris quailed. The bonnet also was a trial, for when the lace was on, it was discovered that the ribbons didn't match the dress. Here was a catastrophe. Kitty frantically rummaged the house, the shops, the stores of her friends, and rummaged in vain. There was no time to send to the city, and despair was about to fall on Kitty when Pris rescued her by quietly making one of the small sacrifices, which were easy to her because her life was spent for others. Someone suggested a strip of blue illusion, and that could be got, but alas Kitty had no money, for the gloves were already bought. Pris heard the lamentations, and giving up fresh ribbons for herself, pulled her sister out of a slo of despond with two yards of heavenly tool. Now the daisies, and oh dear me, not one can I find in this poverty-stricken town, sighed Kitty, prinking at the glass, and fervently hoping that nothing would happen to her complexion overnight. I see plenty just like those on your dress, answered Pris, nodding toward the meadow full of young white weed.  I'll wear real ones. They keep well, I know, and are so common I can refresh my bonnet anywhere. It's a splendid idea! Away rushed Kitty to return with an apron full of American daisies. A pretty cluster was soon fastened just over the left-hand frizzle of bright hair, and the little bonnet was complete. Now Pris, tell me how I look, cried Kitty, as she swept into the room late that afternoon in full gala costume. It would have been impossible for the primist, the sourest, or the most sensible creature in the world to say that it wasn't a pretty sight. The long train, the big sheen yawn, the apology for a bonnet were all ridiculous. No one could deny that, but youth, beauty, and a happy heart made even those absurdities charming. The erect young figure gave an air to the crisp folds of the delicate dress. The bright eyes and fresh cheeks under the lace rosette made one forget its size, and the rippling brown hair won admiration in spite of the ugly bunch which disfigured the girl's head. The little jacket set divinely, the new gloves were as immaculate as white kids could be, and to crown all, Lizzie King, in a burst of generosity, lent Kitty the blue and white pair of sunshade which she couldn't use herself. Now I could die content. I'm perfect in all respects, and I know Jack won't be ashamed of me. I really owe it to him to look my best, you know, and that's why I'm so particular," said Kitty in an apologetic tone as she began to lay away her finery. I hope you will enjoy every minute of the time, dearie. Don't forget to finish running up the facing. I've basted it carefully, and would do it if my head didn't ache so. I really can't hold it up any longer," answered Priss, who had worked like a disinterested bee while Kitty had flown about like a distracted butterfly.  So absorbed was she in learning to manage her train gracefully that she forgot the facing till very late. Then, being worn out with work and worry, she did what girls are too apt to do. Stuck a pin here and there, and, trusting to Priscilla's careful bastings, left it as it was, retiring to dream of a certain Horace Fletcher, whose aristocratic elegance had made a deep impression upon her during the few evenings she had seen him. Nothing could have been lovelier than the morning, and few hearts happier than Kitty's as she arrayed herself with the utmost care and waited in solemn state for the carriage, for muslin trains and dewy roads were incompatible, and one luxury brought another. My goodness! Where did she get that stylish suit, whispered Miss Smith to Miss Jones, as Kitty floated into the station with all sail set, finding it impossible to resist the temptation to astonish certain young ladies who had snubbed her in times past, which snubs had wrinkled, and were now avenged. I looked everywhere for a muslin for today and couldn't find any I liked, so I was forced to wear my mauve silk, observed Miss Smith, complacently settling the silvery folds of her dress. It's very pretty, but one ruins a silk at class-day, you know. I thought this organdy would be more comfortable and appropriate this warm day. A friend brought it from Paris, and it's like one the Princess of Wales wore at the Great Flower Show this year, returned Kitty, with the air of a young lady who had all her dresses from Paris, and was intimately acquainted with the royal family. Those girls were entirely extinguished by this stroke, and hadn't a word to say for themselves, while Kitty casually mentioned Horace Fletcher, Lyceum Hall, and cousin Jack, for they had only a little freshman brother to boast of, and were not going to Lyceum Hall. As she stepped out of the cars at Cambridge, Jack opened his honest blue eyes and indulged in a low whistle of astonishment, for if there was anything he especially hated, it was the trains, sheons, and tiny bonnets then in fashion. He was very fond of Kitty, and prided himself on being able to show his friends a girl who was charming, and yet not overdressed. She has made a regular guy of herself. I won't tell her so, and the dear little soul shall have a jolly time in spite of her fuss and feathers, but I do wish she had let her hair alone and worn that pretty hat of hers. As this thought passed through Jack's mind, he smiled and bowed, and made his way among the crowd, whispering as he drew his cousin's arm through his own. Why, Kitty, you're got up regardless of expense, aren't you?  We'll have a rousing good time, and you shall see all the fun. Oh, thank you, Jack. Do I look nice, really? I tried to be a credit to you and Priss, and I did have such a job of it.  A carriage for me? Bless us how fine we are! And Kitty stepped in, feeling that only one thing more was needed to make her cup overflow. That one thing was speedily vouchsafed, for before her skirts were smoothly settled, Jack called out in his hearty way. How are you, Fletcher? If you are bound for chapel, I'll take you up. Thanks. Good morning, Miss Heath. It was all done in an instant, and the next thing Kitty knew, she was rolling away with the elegant horse sitting opposite. How little it takes to make a young girl happy, a pretty dress, sunshine, and somebody opposite, and they are blessed. Kitty's face glowed and dimpled with pleasure as she glanced about her, especially when she, sitting in state with two gentlemen all to herself, passed those girls walking in the dust with a beardless boy. She felt that she could forgive past slights, and did so with a magnanimous smile and bow. Both Jack and Fletcher had graduated the year before, but still took an interest in their old haunts and patronized the fellows who were not yet through the mill, at least the seniors and juniors. Of softs and freshs, they were sublimely unconscious. Greeted by frequent slaps on the shoulder, and hearty, how are you, old fellows? They piloted Kitty to a seat in the chapel. An excellent place, but the girl's satisfaction was marred by Fletcher's desertion, and she could not see anything attractive about the dashing young lady in the pink bonnet to whom he devoted himself, because she was a stranger, Kitty said. Everybody knows what goes on in the chapel. After the fight and scramble are over, the rustle and buzz, the music, the oratory and the poem, during which the men cheer in the girl's simper, the professor's yawn, and the poet's friends pronounce him a second longfellow, then the closing flourishes, the grand crush, and general scattering. Then the fun really begins as far as the young folks are concerned. They don't mind swarming up and down stairs in a solid phallus. They can enjoy half a dozen courses of salad, ice and strawberries, with stout gentlemen crushing their feet, anxious mamas sticking sharp elbows into their sides, and absent-minded tutors walking over them. They can flirt vigorously in a torrid atmosphere of dinner, dust, and din, can smile with hot coffee running down their backs, small avalanches of ice cream descending upon their best bonnets, and sandwiches, butterside down, reposing on their delicate silks. They know that it is a costly rapture, but they carefully refrain from thinking of the morrow, and energetically illustrate the Yankee maxim which bids us enjoy ourselves in our early bloom. Kitty did have a rousing good time, for Jack was devoted, taking her everywhere, showing her everything, feeding and fanning her and festooning her train with untiring patience. How many forcible expressions he mentally indulged in as he walked on that unlucky train we will not record. He smiled and skipped and talked of treading on flowers in a way that would have charmed Kitty if someone else had not been hovering about the daisy, as Fletcher called her. After he returned, she neglected Jack, who took it coolly, and was never in the way unless she wanted him.  The little coquetteries, which are as natural to a gay young girl as her laughter, were all in full play, and had she gone no further, no harm would have been done. But, excited by the example of those about her, Kitty tried to enact the fashionable young lady, and, like most novices, she overdid the part.  Jack saw it all, shook his head, and said nothing, but his face grew rather sober as he watched Kitty flushed, disheveled, and breathless, whirling round Lyceum Hall on the arm of Fletcher, who danced divinely as all the girls agreed. Jack had proposed going, but Kitty had frowned, so he fell back, leaving her to listen and laugh, blush and shrink a little at her partner's flowery compliments and admiring glances. If she stands that long, she's not the girl I took her for, thought Jack, beginning to lose patience. She doesn't look like my little Kitty, and somehow I don't feel half so fond and proud of her as usual. I know one thing. My daughter shall never be seen knocking about in that style. As if the thought suggested the act, Jack suddenly assumed an air of parental authority, and, arresting his cousin as she was about to begin again, he said, in a tone she had never heard before. I promised Prist to take care of you, so I shall carry you off to rest and put yourself to rights after this game of romps. I advise you to do the same, Fletcher, or give your friend in the pink bonnet a turn. Kitty took Jack's arm petishly, but glanced over her shoulder with such an inviting smile that Fletcher followed, feeling very much like a top in danger of tumbling down the instant he stopped spinning. As she came out, Kitty's face cleared, and, assuming her sprightliest air, she spread her plumage and prepared to descend with effect, for a party of uninvited paris stood at the gate of this paradise, casting longing glances at the forbidden splendors within. Slowly, that all might see her, Kitty sailed down with Horace, the debonair, in her wake, and was just thinking to herself, those girls won't get over this very soon, I fancy. When all in one moment she heard Fletcher exclaim wrathfully, hang the flounces! She saw a very glossy black hat come skipping down the steps, felt a violent twitch backward, and, to save herself from a fall, sat down on the lower step with most undignified haste. It was impossible for the bystanders to help laughing, for there was Fletcher hopping wildly about, with one foot nicely caught in a muslin loop, and there sat Kitty longing to run away and hide herself, yet perfectly helpless, while everyone tittered. Miss Jones and Miss Smith laughed shrilly, and the despised little freshman completed her mortification by a feeble joke about Kitty Heath's new man-trap. It was only an instant, but it seemed an hour before Fletcher freed her, and snatching up the dusty beaver left her with a flushed countenance and an abrupt bow. If it hadn't been for Jack, Kitty would have burst into tears then and there, so terrible was the sense of humiliation which oppressed her. For his sake she controlled herself, and bundling up her torn train, set her teeth, stared straight before her, and let him lead her in dead silence to a friend's room nearby. There he locked the door, and began to comfort her by making light of the little mishap. But Kitty cried so tragically that he was at his wit's end, till the ludicrous side of the affair struck her, and she began to laugh hysterically. With a vague idea that vigorous treatment was best for that feminine ailment, Jack was about to empty the contents of an ice-pitcher over her, when she arrested him by exclaiming incoherently, oh, don't! It was so funny! How can you laugh, you cruel boy? I'm disgraced, forever! Take me home to Pris, oh, take me home to Pris! I will, my dear, I will. But first let me write you up a bit.  And Jack laughed, in spite of himself, at the wretched little object before him, for dust, dancing, and the downfall produced a ruinous spectacle. That broke Kitty's heart, and, spreading her hands before her face, she was about to cry again when the sad sight which met her eyes dispelled the gathering tears. The new gloves were both split up the middle and very dirty with clutching at the steps as she went down. Never mind, you can wash them, said Jack soothingly. I paid a dollar and a half for them, and they can't be washed, groaned Kitty. Oh, hang the gloves! I meant your hands, cried Jack, trying to keep sober. No matter for my hands, I mourn my gloves. But I won't cry any more, for my head aches now so I can hardly see. And Kitty threw off her bonnet, as if even that airy trifle hurt her. Seeing how pale she looked, Jack tenderly suggested a rest on the old sofa and a wet handkerchief on her hot forehead, while he got the good landlady to send her up a cup of tea. As Kitty rose to comply, she glanced at her dress, and, clasping her hands, exclaimed tragically, The facing! The fatal facing! That made all the mischief, for if I'd sewed it up last night it wouldn't have ripped to-day. If it hadn't ripped Fletcher wouldn't have got his foot in it. I shouldn't have made an object of myself, and he wouldn't have gone off in a rage, and who knows what might have happened. Bless the what's its name if it has settled him, cried Jack. He is a contemptible fellow not to stay and help you out of the scrape he got you into. Follow his lead and don't trouble yourself about him. Well, he was rather absurd today, I allow. But he has got handsome eyes and hands, and he does dance like an angel, sighed Kitty, as she pinned up the treacherous loop which had brought destruction to her little castle in the air. Handsome eyes, white hands, and angelic feet, don't make a man. Wait till you can do better, Kit. With an odd, grave look, that rather startled Kitty, Jack vanished, to return presently with a comfortable cup of tea, and a motherly old lady to help repair damages and soothe her by the foolish little purrings and paddings so grateful to female nerves after a flurry. I'll come back and take you out to see the dance round the tree when you've had a bit of a rest, said Jack, vibrating between door and sofa, as if it wasn't easy to get away. Oh, I couldn't, cried Kitty with a shudder at the bare idea of meeting any one. I can't be seen again tonight. Let me stay here till my train goes. I thought it had gone already, said Jack with an irrepressible twinkle of the eye, that glanced at the draggled dress sweeping the floor. How can you joke about it, and the girl's reproachful eyes filled with tears of shame? I know I've been very silly, Jack, but I've had my punishment, and I don't need any more. To feel that you despise me is worse than all the rest.  At that, Jack flushed up, his eyes shone, and he stooped suddenly as if to make some impetuous reply. But, remembering the old lady, who by the by was discreetly looking out of the window, he put his hands in his pockets and strolled out of the room. I've lost them both by this day's folly, thought Kitty, and Mrs. Brown departed with the teacup. I don't care for Fletcher, for I dare say he didn't mean half, he said, and I was only flattered because he is rich and handsome, and the girls glorify him. But I shall miss Jack, for I've known and loved him all my life. How good he's been to me today! So patient, careful, and kind, though he must have been ashamed of me. I know he didn't like my dress, but he never said a word and stood by me through everything. Oh, I wish I'd minded Priss. Then he would have respected me at least. I wonder if he ever will again. Following a sudden impulse, Kitty sprang up, locked the door, and then proceeded to destroy all her little vanities as far as possible.  She looped up her dress, leaving no vestige of the now hateful train, and did herself up uncompromisingly in the quakerish gray shawl Priss had insisted on her taking for the evening. Then she surveyed herself with pensive satisfaction, saying, in the tone of one bent on resolutely mortifying the flesh, Neat, but not gaudy. I'm a fright, but I deserve it.  Kitty had time to feel a little friendless and forlorn, sitting there alone as twilight fell, and amused herself by wondering if Fletcher would come to inquire about her, or show any further interest in her. Yet when the sound of a manly tramp approached, she trembled lest it should be the victim of the fatal facing. The door opened, and with a sigh of relief she saw Jack come in, bearing a pair of new gloves in one hand, and a great bouquet of June roses in the other. How good of you to bring me these! They are more refreshing than oceans of tea. You know what I like, Jack. Thank you very much," cried Kitty, sniffing at her roses with grateful rapture. And you know what I like, returned Jack with an approving glance at the altered figure before him. I'll never do so any more, murmured Kitty, wondering why she felt bashful all of a sudden, when it was only Cousin Jack. Now put on your gloves, dear, and come out and hear the music. Your train doesn't go for two hours yet, and you mustn't mope here all that time, said Jack, offering his second gift. How did you know my size? asked Kitty, putting on the gloves in a hurry, for though Jack had called her dear for years, the little word had a new sound to-night. I guessed. No, I didn't. I had the old ones with me. They are no good now, are they? And too honest to lie, Jack tried to speak carelessly, though he turned red in the dusk, well knowing that the dirty little gloves were folded away in his left breast pocket at that identical moment. Oh, dear, no! These fit nicely. I'm ready if you don't mind going with such a fright, said Kitty, forgetting her dread of seeing people in her desire to get away from that room, because for the first time in her life she wasn't at ease with Jack. I think I like the little gray moth better than the fine butterfly, returned Jack, who, in spite of his invitation, seemed to find moping rather pleasant. You are a rainy day friend, and he isn't, said Kitty softly, as she drew him away. Jack's only answer was to lay his hand on the little white glove, resting so confidingly on his arm, and keeping it there, they roamed away into the summer twilight. Something had happened to the evening and the place, for both seemed suddenly endowed with uncommon beauty and interest. The dingy old houses might have been fairy palaces for anything they saw to the contrary. The dusty walks, the trampled grass, were regular Elysian fields to them, and the music was the music of the spheres, though they found themselves right in the middle of the boom-jing-jing. For both had made a little discovery, no, not a little one, the greatest and sweetest man and woman can make. In the sharp twinge of jealousy which the sight of Kitty's flirtation with Fletcher gave him, and the delight he found in her after-conduct, Jack discovered how much he loved her. In the shame, gratitude, and half-sweet, half-bitter emotion that filled her heart, Kitty felt that to her, Jack would never be only cousin Jack any more. All the vanity, coquetry, selfishness, and ill-temper of the day seemed magnified to henious sins. For now her only thought was, seeing these faults he can't care for me. Oh, I wish I was a better girl. She did not say for his sake, but in the new humility, the ardent wish to be all that a woman should be, little Kitty proved how true her love was, and might have said with Porsche. For myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish, but for you I would be troubled twenty times myself, a thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich. All about them other pairs were wandering under the patriarchal alms, enjoying music, starlight, balmy winds, and all the luxuries of the season. If the band had played, oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life as love's young dream. It is my private opinion that it would have suited the audience to a T. Being principally composed of elderly gentlemen with large families, they had not that fine sense of the fitness of things so charming to see, and tooted and banged away with waltzes and marches, quite regardless of the flocks of Romeo's and Juliet's philandering all about them. Under cover of a popular medley, Kitty overheard Fletcher quizzing her for the amusement of Miss Pinkbonnet, who was evidently making up for lost time. It was feeble wit, but it put the finishing stroke to Kitty's vanity, and she dropped a tear in her blue tissue retreat and clung to Jack, feeling that she had never valued him half enough. She hoped he didn't hear the gossip going on at the other side of the tree near which they stood, but he did. For his hand involuntarily doubled itself up into a very dangerous-looking fist, and he darted such fiery glances at the speaker that, if the thing had been possible, Fletcher's ambrosial curls would have been scorched off his head. Never mind, and don't get angry, Jack. They are right about one thing. The daisies in my bonnet were real, and I couldn't afford any others. I don't care much. Only Priss worked so hard to get me ready.  He isn't worth a thrashing, so we'll let it pass this time, said Jack, irefully, yet privately resolving to have it out with Fletcher by and by. Why, Kitty, I thought the real daisies the prettiest things about your dress. Don't throw them away. I'll wear them just to show that noodle that I prefer nature to art. And Jack gallantly stuck the faded posy in his buttonhole, while Kitty treasured up the hint so kindly given for future use. If a clock with great want of tact hadn't insisted on telling them that it was getting late, Kitty never would have got home, for both the young people felt inclined to loiter about arm in arm through the sweet summer night forever. Jack had meant to say something before she went, and was immensely surprised to find the chance lost for the present. He wanted to go home with her and free his mind. But a neighborly old gentleman having been engaged as escort, there would have been very little satisfaction in travelling trio. So he gave it up. He was very silent as they walked to the station with Mr. Dodd trudging behind them. Kitty thought he was tired, perhaps glad to be rid of her, and meekly accepted her fate. But as the train approached, she gave his hand an impulsive squeeze and said very gratefully, Jack, I can't thank you enough for your kindness to your silly little cousin, but I never shall forget it, and if I can ever return it in any way, I will, with all my heart. Jack looked down at the young face, almost pathetic now, with weariness, humility and pain, yet very sweet, with that new shyness in the loving eyes, and stooping suddenly he kissed it, whispering in a tone that made the girl's heart flutter. I'll tell you how you may return it, with all your heart. Bye and bye. Good night, my Kitty. Have you had a good time, dear? asked Priss, as her sister appeared an hour later. Don't I look as if I had? And throwing off her wraps, Kitty revolved slowly before her that she might behold every portion of the wreck. My gown is all dust, crumple and rags, my bonnet perfectly limp and flat, and my gloves are ruined. I've broken Lizzie's parasol and made a spectacle of myself, and wasted money, time and temper. Yet my class day isn't a failure, for Jack is the dearest boy in the world, and I'm very, very happy. Priss looked at her a minute, then opened her arms without a word, and Kitty forgot all her little troubles in one great joy. When Miss Smith and Miss Jones called a few days after to tell her that Mr. Fletcher was going abroad, the amiable creatures were entirely routed by finding Jack there in a most unmistakable situation. He blamely wished Horace bond voyage, and regretted that he wouldn't be there to the wedding in October. Kitty devoted herself to blushing beautifully, and darning many rents in a short daisy muslin skirt. Which I intend to wear a great deal, because Jack likes it, and so do I, she said, with a demure look at her lover, who laughed as if that was the best joke of the season. End of Kitty's class day by Louisa May Alcott. Shoes and stockings. A collection of short stories by Louisa May Alcott. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Carolyn Francis. A Country Christmas. Part one by Louisa May Alcott. A handful of good life is worth a bushel of learning. Dear Emily, I have a brilliant idea, and at once hasten to share it with you. Three weeks ago I came up here to the wilds of Vermont to visit my old aunt, also to get a little quiet in distance in which to survey certain new prospects, which have opened before me, and to decide whether I will marry a millionaire, or become a queen of society, or remain the charming Miss Vaughn and wait till the conquering hero comes. Aunt Plummy begs me to stay over Christmas, and I've consented, as I always dread the formal dinner with which my guardian celebrates the day. My brilliant idea is this. I'm going to make it a real old-fashioned frolic, and won't you come and help me? You will enjoy it immensely, I am sure, for aunt is a character, Cousins all worth seeing, and Ruth a far prettier girl than any of the city rose buds coming out this season. Bring Leonard Randall along with you to take notes for his new books, then it will be fresher and truer than the last, clever as it was. The air is delicious up here, society amusing, this old farmhouse full of treasures, and your bosom friend pining to embrace you. Just telegraph yes or no, and we will expect you on Tuesday. Ever yours, Sophie Vaughn. They will both come, for they are as tired of city life, and as fond of change as I am, said the writer of The Above as she folded her letter and went to get it posted without delay. Aunt Plummy was in the great kitchen making pies, a jolly old soul with a face as ruddy as a winter apple, a cheery voice, and the kindest heart that ever beat under a gingham gown. Pretty Ruth was chopping the mince, and singing so gaily as she worked that the four and twenty immortal blackbirds could not have put more music into a pie than she did. Saul was piling wood into the big oven, and Sophie paused a moment on the threshold to look at him, for she always enjoyed the sight of this stalwart cousin whom she likened to a Norse viking with his fair hair and beard, keen blue eyes, and six feet of manly height, with shoulders that looked broad and strong enough to bear any burden. His back was toward her, but he saw her first, and turned his flushed face to meet her, with the sudden lighting up it always showed when she approached. I've done it, aunt, and now I want Saul to post the letter so we can get a speedy answer. Just as soon as I can hitch up, cousin, and Saul pitched in his last log looking ready to put a girdle round the earth in less than forty minutes. Well, dear, I ain't the least might of objection, as long as it pleases you. I guess we can stand it if your city folk can. I presume to say things will look kind of singular to them, but I suppose that's what they come for. Idol folks do dreadful queer things to amuse them, and Aunt Plummy leaned on the rolling pin to smile and nod with a shrewd twinkle of her eye, as if she enjoyed the prospect as much as Sophie did. I shall be afraid of them, but I'll try not to make you ashamed of me, said Ruth, who loved her charming cousin even more than she admired her. No fear of that, dear. They will be the awkward ones, and you must set them at ease by just being your simple selves and treating them as if they were everyday people. Nell is very nice and jolly when she drops her city ways, as she must hear. She will enter into the spirit of the fun at once, and I know you'll all like her. Mr. Randall is rather the worse for too much praise and petting, as successful people are apt to be, so a little plain talk and rough work will do him good. He is a true gentleman in spite of his heirs and elegance, and he will take it all in good part if you treat him like a man and not a lion. I'll see to him, said Saul, who had listened with great interest to the latter part of Sophie's speech, evidently suspecting a lover, and enjoying the idea of supplying him with a liberal amount of plain talk and rough work. I'll keep them busy if that's what they need, for there will be a sight to do, and we can't get help easy up here. For daughters don't hire out much, work to home till they marry, and don't go gad and round getting their heads full of foolish notions, and forgetting all the useful things their mothers taught them. Aunt Plummy glanced at Ruth as she spoke, and a sudden color in the girl's cheeks proved that the words hit certain ambitious fancies of this pretty daughter of the house of Bassett. They shall do their parts and not be a trouble. I'll see to that, for you certainly are the dearest aunt in the world to let me take possession of you and yours in this way. cried Sophie, embracing the old lady with warmth. Saul wished the embrace could be returned by proxy, as his mother's hands were too flowery to do more than hover affectionately round the delicate face that looked so fresh and young beside her wrinkled one. As it could not be done, he fled temptation and hitched up without delay. The three women laid their heads together in his absence, and Sophie's plan grew apace, for Ruth longed to see a real novelist and a fine lady, and Aunt Plummy, having plans of her own to further, said, yes, dear, to every suggestion. Great was the arranging and adorning that went on that day in the old farmhouse, for Sophie wanted her friends to enjoy this taste of country pleasures, and knew just what additions would be indispensable to their comfort, what simple ornaments would be in keeping with the rustic stage on which she meant to play the part of prima donna. Next day, a telegram arrived accepting the invitation for both the lady and the lion. They would arrive that afternoon, as little preparation was needed for this impromptu journey, the novelty of which was its chief charm to these blasé people. Saul wanted to get out the double sleigh and span, for he prided himself on his horses, and a fall of snow came most opportunely to beautify the landscape and add a new pleasure to Christmas festivities. But Sophie declared that the old yellow sleigh with punch, the farmhorse, must be used, as she wished everything to be in keeping, and Saul obeyed, thinking he had never seen anything prettier than his cousin when she appeared in his mother's old-fashioned camelot cloak and blue silk pumpkin hood. He looked remarkably well himself in his fur coat, with hair and beard brushed till they shone like spun gold, a fresh color in his cheek, and the sparkle of amusement in his eyes, while excitement gave his usually grave face the animation it needed to be handsome. Away they jogged in the creaking old sleigh, leaving Ruth to make herself pretty with a fluttering heart, and Aunt Plummy to dish up a late dinner fit to tempt the most fastidious appetite. She has not come for us, and there is not even a stage to take us up. There must be some mistake," said Emily Herrick, as she looked about the shabby little station where they were set down. That is the never-to-be-forgotten face of our fair friend, but the bonnet of her grandmother, if my eyes do not deceive me, answered Randall, turning to survey the couple approaching in the rear. Sophie Vaughn, what do you mean by making such a guy of yourself? exclaimed Emily as she kissed the smiling face in the hood and stared at the quaint cloak. I'm dressed for my part, and I intend to keep it up. This is our host, my cousin, Saul Bassett. Come to the sleigh at once. He will see to your luggage," said Sophie, painfully conscious of the antiquity of her array as her eyes rested on Emily's pretty hat and mantle, and the masculine elegance of Randall's raps. They were hardly tucked in when Saul appeared with the valleys in one hand and a large trunk on his shoulder, swinging both onto a wood sled that stood nearby as easily as if they had been handbags. That is your hero, is it? Well, he looks it, calm and comely, taciturn and tall," said Emily, in a tone of approbation. He should have been named Samson or Goliath, though I believe it was the small man who slung things about and turned out the hero in the end, added Randall, surveying the performance with interest, and a touch of envy, for much penwork had made his own hands as delicate as a woman's. Saul doesn't live in a glass house, so stones won't hurt him. Remember, sarcasm is forbidden and sincerity the order of the day. You are country folks now, and it will do you good to try their simple, honest ways for a few days. Sophie had no time to say more, for Saul came up and drove off with the brief remark that the baggage would be along right away. Being hungry, cold and tired, the guests were rather silent during the short drive, but Aunt Plummy's hospitable welcome and the savory fumes of the dinner awaiting them thawed the ice and won their hearts at once. Isn't it nice? Aren't you glad you came? asked Sophie, as she led her friends into the parlor, which she had redeemed from its primness by putting bright chintz curtains to the windows, hemlock boughs over the old portraits, a china bowl of flowers on the table, and a splendid fire on the wide hearth. It is perfectly jolly, and this is the way I begin to enjoy myself," answered Emily, sitting down upon the homemade rug whose red flannel roses bloomed in a blue-list basket. If I may add a little smoke to your glorious fire, it will be quite perfect. Won't Samson join me? asked Randall, waiting for permission, cigar case in hand. He has no small vices, but you may indulge yours, answered Sophie, from the depths of a grandmotherly chair. Emily glanced up at her friend as if she caught a new tone in her voice, then turned to the fire again with a wise little nod, as if confiding some secret to the reflection of herself in the bright brass and diran. His Delilah does not take this form. I wait with interest to discover if he has one. What a daisy the sister is, does she ever speak? asked Randall, trying to lounge on the hair-clothed sofa where he was slipping uncomfortably about.  You shall hear her when she gets over her shyness. But no trifling mind you, for it is a jealously guarded daisy and not to be picked by any idle hand, said Sophie, warningly, as she recalled Ruth's blushes and Randall's compliments at dinner. I should expect to be annihilated by the Big Brother if I attempted any but the sincerest admiration and respect. I have no fears on that score, but tell us what is to follow this superb dinner, an Applebee, spinning match, husking party, or primitive pastime of some sort. I have no doubt. As you are new to our ways, I am going to let you rest this evening. We will sit about the fire and tell stories, and as a master hand at that, and Saul has reminiscences of the war that are well worth hearing, if we can only get him to tell them. Ah, he was there, was he? Yes, all through it, and his major basset, though he likes his plain name best. He fought splendidly and had several wounds, though only a mere boy when he earned his scars and bars. I am very proud of him for that. And Sophie looked so, as she glanced at the photograph of a stripling in uniform set in the place of honor on the high mantelpiece. We must stir him up and hear these marshal memories. I want some new incidents, and shall book all I can get if I may. Here Randall was interrupted by Saul himself, who came in with an armful of wood for the fire. Anything more I can do for you, cousin? he asked, surveying the scene with a rather wistful look. Only come and sit with us and talk over war times with Mr. Randall. When I faltered the cattle and done my chores, I'd be pleased to. What regiment were you in? asked Saul, looking down from his lofty height upon the splendor gentleman, who answered briefly, In none, I was abroad at the time. Sick? No, busy with a novel. Took four years to write it? I was obliged to travel and study before I could finish it. These things take more time to work up than outsiders would believe. Seems to me our war was a finer story than any you could find in Europe, and the best way to study it would be to fight it out. If you want heroes and heroines, you'd have found plenty of them there. I have no doubt of it, and shall be glad to atone for my seeming neglect of them by hearing about your own exploits. Major Randall hoped to turn the conversation gracefully, but Saul was not to be caught and left the room saying with a gleam of fun in his eye. I can't stop now. Heroes can wait. Pigs can't. The girls laughed at this sudden descent from the sublime to the ridiculous, and Randall joined them, feeling his condescension had not been unobserved.


And while we're in the sequence here of happenings for reasons, this being Volume 8, our traditionally broadcasting from our traditional triangle from three different parts of the world of this triangle, we're unfortunately missing our one leg today, who is the Soto Brown back in Honolulu, Hawaii, because you're a little bit under the radar, the Soto. So hopefully, you know, get better for sure. So sorry for that. Hope you feel a bit feel better soon. But we have us back in and from Long Beach, California, our leisure legacy legend, Ron Lindgren, hi, Ron. Hello, Martin. How are you? I'm good. Good. Thank you. And I'm Ron Scassi live, as you can see here from a not that known place back in my home country in Germany, which the D.E.E.S. stands for Deutschland. And this is Koblands. And for that matter, can we get the first slide up, please? Because this has been some time travel for me, that I was traveling through the center west part of my native country. And this is where my father, who was an age buddy of yours, Ron, has his roots. And he, having grown up in this area, which we talked about briefly at last week's show, now I basically drove up to what he designed for his parents at the relatively young age of in the mid 30s. And I was driving up there. I hadn't been there for a quarter of a century. And I bravely drove up to the gate. I rang the doorbell. I said, I am the nephew of the original owner.  And to your surprise, Ron, because you with a house, you just shared your memories that you had designed back home in Illinois, the one and only home. You didn't have the initial refreshing, the warm, the welcoming response that I had. Because all they said was, oh, come on in. Brian, you want to quickly share your experience that was sort of in a similar situation, please? Yeah, as when I was in school one summer, I wasn't working in Europe, which was the great opportunities I had while an undergraduate. And I was working in a local architects' office, a very young firm. And they gave me the primary responsibility of designing the only house I've ever had the opportunity to do a little one story brick house surrounding a courtyard that brought light deep into the home and light and air and the sense of the sky and all the good things that courtyard houses provide intrinsically. So some 50 years after I designed it, I went to the front door and a housewife came. And I was holding actually a set of the original drawings in blueprint form. And I offered them to her. And she offered me to get out of her doorstep and get away. She had no time for me. So I did not get the welcome opportunity. Later, a second owner, some years, six or seven years after that, invited me in. And I found that unhappily, the courtyard, the amount of glass in the central courtyard had been diminished somewhat by some strange wall construction. But the home was so beautifully maintained that that was the good part. So just like life, good and bad. Exactly.  Going back to the place of my best childhood memories because my parents always then dropped us off at my grandparents and I had the most beautiful summers there with my cousins and with my sister and again, nothing but the best memories. So some architectural observations from you would be appreciated, Ron. Yeah, I really appreciated what I saw in the first time without you in the picture, of course. And it's the sense of openness in that home. Open plan, sharing those aspects of Southern California mid-century architecture, including my own home, half a world away from each other. And also the connections between indoors and outdoors and you had some interesting German words, including Fui, that I think you need to explain. Exactly. And that traces back to cross-culturally to the all-American case study house attribute and attitudes which again, your colleague, boss and partner at Killingsworth was an inaugural pardon. And they're all pretty much broke with the Victorian attitude of Auson Fui and Inen Fui, which means like the house makes a lot of effort to impress you from the outside. But once you walk through this impressive gesture, you're rather disappointed. And in this tradition of the case study houses, it's more the opposite. You hardly even find the door in some cases and it looks more austere to say the least, at least how the common people experience that. And once you walk through that threshold from the public to the private, you're wowed by, as you said, an open plan, open space and blurring the indoors and the outdoors, right? And it was interesting that when your characterization is what my father echoed when he was basically responding to the pictures I sent him, he said, oh, it almost looks American. And that seems like a retrospective characterization that he didn't seem to have at least consciously, maybe subconsciously because all the architects were very, very impressed and looked up to you guys in America and the case study houses. So this is a late admitting, attributing to that one, right? Yes, and I get to have an added bonus of my own home because I have some two-story spaces that actually look into each other. And what is really a small house, little more than 1200 square feet, suddenly seemed so much larger because you're looking up at rooms above you. The sunshine is flowing in through two-story glass walls of a fine sanctuary. Yeah, and that's the same here, similarity, amazing similarities. Now owner is actually the only the second owner. So he bought it directly from my grandparents after they lived there for a little more than a decade only because they couldn't talking about a lot. A lot is rather large and it's almost like 10 times as much as the house. And this only has 1600 square feet and yours has 1200. So it's kind of the same, it's in the same, it's a little larger, but both feel much larger. And the now only second owner told me when he first approached the house, which you see on that top, the second from the top at that show quote, you see myself and my lady cousins and my sister having fun in front of the house and the house looks very, as we said in the traditional the case study houses, very nondescript. And he said when he saw it, he came across to him like a barrack and he was about to turn around and drive away and not being interested anymore. Luckily he was not doing that and walked inside and saw what you see on the bottom picture that sort of large sort of living landscape as you can call it with a fireplace as the main archetypical anchor in the center. And then all the beam structure is basically spreading out from there like an umbrella. So you can almost call it tropical rockwood has a project that he calls the umbrella house. This of course has to be heavily walled outside because again, we're talking temperate climate here. We're not talking California. We're talking more Illinois. So here we go with the analogies. We wanna make a little side reference to us soon reconvening our ongoing series of comparing automobiles to architecture because that yellow car you see up there is what made my grandfather to be the coolest grandpa around because usually grandpas drive more grand pae cars, but he didn't. He spoiled himself after retiring as an officer from the Bundeswehr, the German army with very, very hot BMW E9 from that same era. And he strategically choose this very bright, fluorescent yellow color and I will never forget that. And I once, there was a surreal situation on one of my many flights back from the heartland when it was still in Nebraska in the prairie where you're from. I was browsing through an automotive magazine that the airline had to hand out. And the guy next to me, I started to engage me in a discussion and he said, this is my car. And I said, no, this looks like my grandpa's car. And it turned out to be that he bought it from my grandpa. Is that surreal? To be us in a plane half around the world opening in a magazine, which was like a vintage car magazine, right? So totally, totally surreal story. Anyways, yeah, talking house and landscape, interior-wise and open plan and floating and flowing spaces. This house is privileged to be as the Google image at the very top right shows, to be fronting a forest directly. And so there's a lot of greenery around it. And also the house is now barely noticeable from its barric front appearance because it's all heavily vegetated. And that gets us actually back to your home with sort of retrospectively, unfortunately, but fortunately also survived. You won't believe it. Another water, not a water incidents, but an incidents of another intrusion into your world, into your domestic world Ron. And that gets us to the next slide. And then talking cars, right? Maybe we take the car as to segue into this one here because this story is around a smart car, right? And smart cars are these German cars that basically have been invented by these Swiss guys who have invented the Swatch watch and Mercedes Benz. And they wanted to just like with a watch bring, make cars accessible to most people, to all people, also to people who couldn't or didn't want to basically buy big cars. But the reason the, I think the car parking, which is not yours because you are a fan of German cars, which we will get to later in the car shows, but currently you have your Audi A4 that you talking water incidents, your water pump broke, right? So this is never ending. Hopefully it's ended now. Happy new year, different year. Water damages are over, period, right? So just now I'm thinking this is another addition to water pump damage you had, but now your Audi is back.  I seriously considered buying a smart car. And when I went to the dealer on display, they had just the frame of the car up on display. And this definitely small car was incredibly reinforced with its steel frame and I'm willing to bet from just my memories of that, because that car was probably even safer than larger cars because the German engineers had really considered the car and the passengers holding up in case of an accident. And I think it was almost the most rollover proof car as far as damage to passengers that I've ever seen. There you go. But that being said, that Americans bought it and as you found out the hard way, it's, well, it is so safe and sound and bullet-like that it caused another intrusion on your escapes, right? Report about that. You know, the pictures at the top, top left and top right show the fact that my home is really lost in the greenery. On-front thing, as it shows on the upper left, a beautifully manicured hillside held up by a concrete wall that in itself is beautifully manicured with ground ivy. And then to the right is my own home entry, which is merely lost in ferns and vines and tropical-like bamboo. And I had been so proud of my house, of course, and then lost it for three or four months when I had a pipe burst and I had water damage. The same week that my old furniture and furnishings and my precious books and things were coming back to the home and I was distributing them and finding myself again in familiar surroundings, a woman in a smart car swerved to avoid a head-on collision with another neighbor apparently and ended up driving her little smart car diagonally right through my gardens, which I had been so proud of. What was the loss? 30 years of tending a grove, that's probably the wrong term, but I'll say a grove of roses that I had really loved and cared for. They were gone, they were torn out and almost all of the bushes parallel to the street were gone, flowering jasmine. And after the trauma of the house damage repair and what it takes to get through that, all of a sudden my front garden was also something I could not be proud of anymore. And there's an old saying about that for those who find themselves behind the eight ball, infamy, infamy, God's got it in for me. But the lesson I learned from the home is just jump into it, take it day by day and get it done. In this case, the woman driver was so embarrassed and we were so glad obviously that she wasn't injured at all. And I got an estimate from a gardening company as to what it would take to have them replace it. I gave her the check and a day later, she gave me a check, the replanning's done. It'll take some time before the home will look as good as it did before, but it will in a year's time.  So true, that's what they say and you proved it. But still, we felt for you, Ron, in this time and we thought, couldn't we just make you leave all this misery up on a plane, get back to your Hawaii, our Hawaii and relax a little bit. And so obviously, we would have liked to have you stay with us, which we get to later. But next slide gets us back to hospitality design and the appreciation of it. And the recent ranking that we had shared at the beginning of this show sequence here where of this magazine that you will remind us of now you were scoring the top poll positions with your projects but now we wanna revisit a little bit further down the ranking which is somehow very interesting as well because these are more kind of small scale, more kind of more humble, less corporate kind of also existing hotels that have been remodeled. And number six is the Kaimana Beach Hotel that we with a show called at the top left already were visiting when we heard about its renovation recently. And we were a little bit disappointed because it's substance, it's from the mid-century. So it's substance is talking courtyards, Ron. It has a courtyard and so it has single loaded corridors around the courtyard. So we were actually wishing it would take more advantage of that and apply more easy reason as we like to call it. But what we saw in the images of the hotel room interiors is very much alike of you had been elaborating a lot, right, the soul about what had happened to the hotel rooms of your Halle Kalani, right? Is that fair to say? Yeah. So we weren't so fond of that. That I think we should take a chance the solo had been updating us on the Halle Kalani and gone there recently with France to eat. And he showed you some pictures that weren't very much helping our otherwise optimism to keep the common spaces intact and unchanged, right? You wanna share that a little bit? What your feelings about what you saw? Yes, several recently with friends went back to the Halle Kalani and had a very fine and memorable meal. He sent me a few shots of the original lobby which is furnished with the only working fireplace in all of Waikiki, which has been there ever since C.W. Dickie designed the Lauer's house. The lobby space, I hardly recognize it from what my interior designer did when we took it over and re-renovated the building. The owner, a Japanese gentleman who happened to be a Francophile had purchased himself with his own money, a very strange and eerie painting called After the Ball. It hung in a prominent position right above the fireplace. And it was gone. And in its place was something that I would not even use the word art to describe. And the furniture itself was also rather stiffly arranged in the room and not so casually placed so that it looked comfortably lived in. It was just an example again of someone thinking that something has to change and why I don't know. Yeah, and probably people can call us really subjective and biased, right? Because you're the creator. And again, I was introduced by our exotic escapism expert, Susanna, to your place that we fell in love with and with each other. And so, you know, we're highly biased, right? And the origination of that painting, you guys just go back to the shows with you, Ron, that you just tried this very elegantly and eloquently. But I don't think we wanna come across as just being grumpy as Stetler and Waldorf as the Muppet Show figures up on the gallery there, right? And just ranting. Because, for example, I got you very excited about the artwork of Kaili Chut. So I can see you, Ron, when they would have replaced that picture maybe for a little while with an artwork of Kaili that tried to really engage with the history of the place and its projection, I'm sure you would have been fine with that. And as you said, only if you replace things that have, are there for a really good reason and you switch them out and your placing was something worse than there is a problem, right? Yeah, the painting was eccentric, yes, but extremely interesting. And the idea behind the lobby in the original renovation that I and my interior architect took on was that in some respects, it would be something like still furnished as it was in the 30s, almost a kind of maiden ant aspect to it. Nothing stiff, nothing particularly modern, but something harking back to those glorious times back in the 30s when the Lure's house was still built. And eccentric, memorable things, I think should remain to be eccentric and memorable for a guest experience of any hotel. Yeah, indeed. And the proof of evidence that you're open to these things is actually another rankings here. One is the Surfjack Hotel, which ranks, comes in at number eight, and that's a hotel that's mid-century and it's been updated and refreshed not to its origin, but interpretively very, and there were some several docomomo events and they're in speaking of these, when we had you as our keynote speaker at the National Symposium, we basically set you up in another retrofitting of a hotel and that is the Lay Low, and it's lobby we see at the very top right and explain us about that, your experience in that one, Ron. Yeah, what a great stay at a hotel that I had not heard of. It had been renovated. The lobby experience was open to the air on all sides, easy breezy, with a restaurant attached to it, which also provided some outdoor dining space and they took it upon themselves to use some aspects of Hawaiian kits. I'm talking about surfboards and Hawaiian shirts and in the rooms there was large leaf bamboo wallpaper that was obviously harking back. It almost reminded me of the hotels in Los Angeles that made such giant flower wallpapers famous and from my room I had a great full view of the Pink Palace. I couldn't have felt more in Honlulu historically than that and had a very enjoyable stay and suggests that people consider that if they're bringing friends from out of state for a stay, the Lalo got its honor and a little lower down the list for good reasons. Yeah, and again, we feel bad. We should have put you up in your hotel, the Hale Kolani, but due to its price range, that was not possible, right? So we're talking about more budget hotels here, right? So and the building of where the Lalo is in is a rather average. I think that's fair to say in century modern building, good in its bones and orientation is right, Malka Makai and it has the nice, right? But architecturally it's not one of the most prolific ones, but really the touch up, the renovation really improved it and there's a big large outdoor restaurant area open to the sky right next to this lobby where when Suzanne was over last time, we really had a good time. So that's improvement. And it just proves that you're not basically stuck in nostalgia and you're basically not open to evolution. No, you just prove that you're welcoming sort of contemporary interpretations of a tropical exotic as again, exemplified here in the lobby that we see with the breeze block screen that has the pool behind and rather outdoorsy furniture and the very generally vegetation in there. So we're at the end of our exciting 28 minutes and with that image at the bottom right is basically giving us a clue where we're going next because we're ongoing sharing a lot of damages. And that will happen in what you see in here which I'm a little jealous now that we didn't show up on the ranking here because it's in my home back on the island in the Waikiki Grand Hotel which has been featured here in the prestigious Monarchal Travel Guide series. And this is from their promotional video and it was incorporated and featured there because of its vintage signage in there. But what happened in that building as my contribution to the water damage series you have to wait until next week. And until then stay all healthy first of all and to solo in particular and happy and please stay a vintage-ly tropical exotic as you rock. And see you next week and dry. Yeah, see you next week. Bye-bye. Oh, yeah.