The gas lamp in the March sitting room cast a warm, soft glow, making long, dancing shadows on the walls. Outside, the evening was drawing in, quiet and cool. Inside, though, it was cozy and full of gentle evening sounds. Meg hummed softly as she folded a shawl neatly over the back of a chair. Jo stretched out by the fireplace, not with a wild book, but with a quiet volume of poetry, letting the words drift over her.
On the rug, Beth carefully arranged her doll family, tucking them into tiny imaginary beds made of scraps of fabric. Each doll had a name, and she whispered little goodnights to them. Across the room, Amy sat sketching in her little book, capturing the peaceful scene with soft lines of charcoal. The air smelled faintly of woodsmoke and Mrs. March's knitting wool.
Soon, Mrs. March, or Marmee as her daughters called her, came in with a gentle smile. "Almost time for sleepy thoughts, girls," she said softly. Meg carefully placed her book aside. Jo yawned, a wide, happy yawn. Beth finished tucking in her last doll, and Amy closed her sketch pad with a quiet sigh.
One by one, they said their goodnights to Marmee, their voices soft and warm. Then, they climbed the stairs together to their rooms. The old house creaked comfortably around them, a sound as familiar as their own heartbeats. In their shared bedroom, they moved slowly, getting ready for bed. Hairbrushes whispered through long hair, nightgowns rustled, and the covers were turned down neatly.
Jo peeked out the window at the sleepy town of Concord, where windows were turning dark and the stars were beginning to twinkle like little diamonds scattered across a dark blue cloth. It felt safe and calm inside their home. The little adventures and busy moments of the day were tucked away, like treasures in a box.
Meg smoothed her pillow, thinking about a kind word she had shared that day. Beth hugged her favorite doll, feeling the soft familiar comfort. Amy thought about the pretty shapes the shadows made on the wall. Jo closed her eyes for just a moment, letting the quiet peace settle over her like a soft blanket.
They climbed into their beds, pulling the quilts up high. The room was dim now, lit only by the faint moonlight through the window. They lay still, listening to the soft sounds of the house settling down for the night. Their breathing slowed, becoming gentle and even. The world outside their window felt very far away, replaced by the comforting closeness of family and the simple goodness of their home.
Sleepy thoughts began to drift in, like little clouds floating across a calm sky. Thoughts of tomorrow, of simple joys, of kindness shared. Their eyelids felt heavy, so very heavy. Soon, the soft darkness welcomed them fully, and the four sisters, cozy and safe in their beds, drifted off into peaceful dreams. Sleep tight, March sisters. Sleep tight.