𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞- 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

FIVE

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THE MARCHES GARRET had been transformed one rainy Saturday morning, when the four March sisters and Charlotte dressed in men's clothes and donned smoking pipes and top hats.

Charlotte had found a pair of spectacles with the glass punched out and in an exaggeratedly animated way, she placed them on her nose. She held a pipe in her hands, bringing it to her lips every so often as if she was actually smoking, as she had seen gentlemen do in Kittery. The long black trousers she wore were too long for her legs, and had to be rolled up many times before they looked semi-reasonable, and were fastened to her waist by a thick belt and braces to keep them from falling down. She tied a bowtie she found in the box of costumes to the loose white dress shirt, and was fiddling with it every minute or so as it felt incredibly lopsided.

"How are you today, fine sir?" Amy asked Charlotte in an imitation of a deep British accent, taking an imaginary puff from her pipe and, putting away her particularity for ladylike manners for the afternoon, leaned forward boyishly.

Charlotte straightened her sad little bowtie that immediately flattened and turned off-center. "Magnificent, sir!" She exclaimed with a boisterous voice. "And yourself?"

"Never better, never better." Amy chuckled. She feigned nervousness, casting a look around the room like she was telling a secret. "Have you seen the headlines?"

"Oh, I never read the headlines. Only look at the pictures. Yes, the pictures." Charlotte cracked a grin as she mumbled other nonsense in a ridiculous voice.

Meg called the room to order and unfolded the homemade newspaper with The Pickwick Portfolio written across the top with one of Amy's nice ink pens. Jo had informed Charlotte that she simply must submit something to be read, after casting a pointed look at Amy who had neglected to do so for the past few meetings. Charlotte mustered up every ounce of creativity and imagination she had and submitted a poem, which was rather uninteresting when compared to the other submissions in her opinion, about a Mr. Beaver and a Mr. Hare who steal a pie from a windowsill and the silly adventures that ensue.

Meg read the collection of poetry, stories and advertisements with cheerfulness and fervor, sending boisterous laughter and applause through the garret. Charlotte's poem earned her a round of applause and a clap on the back from Jo, which delighted her. Charlotte thought Jo's poem about the club was brilliant, and Meg's romantic story was beautiful and put a smile on everyone's faces. Beth's recipe for squash was charming and simple, but it took a great deal of courage from Beth to submit it, so it was met with thunderous applause and whistles. Amy's letter of regret for not writing her own piece made them chuckle and she was forgiven once again, for everyone was in such good spirits.

Jo stomped her feet and yelled in an amusing accent as Meg tried without much luck to speak over them. "Order! Order!"

The room quieted and Meg thanked Jo. "A new play, written by Miss Jo March, will appear at the Barnville Theatre, in the course of the next few weeks, which will surpass anything ever seen before on the American stage." Meg read from their homemade newspaper in a deep voice that echoed off the attic walls.