Mother enjoyed a quiet time with her two younger daughters that evening.
She mended some old clothes to take to the Hummels, while Beth patched up her dolls to give to the little girls in that family.
Amy was unusually calm and silent. She kept her nose in her book the whole time.
"Are you feeling all right, dear?" Mother asked worriedly.
"I'm fine, Mother. Just a little tired is all," was Amy's reply.
Beth glanced at her sister with concern but did not say anything.
At around 10:30, Meg and Jo returned from their evening out with Laurie.
"We're back!" Jo announced loudly, in case anybody didn't hear them happily chatting away outside the door.
"Come and tell us how your evening was," Mother called out warmly.
Meg and Jo entered the living room, their cheeks flushed with delight and their eyes sparkling like diamonds.
"Oh, Mother, it was absolutely beautiful," Meg praised, clasping her delicate hands against her chest.
"Well, I thought the costumes were a bit exaggerated," commented Jo critically, but then she started to laugh as she recalled a funny moment.
"In one scene, the lights wouldn't come on so the characters didn't know who was standing where.
Then finally, when the lights did turn on, well, they were all in the wrong place.
So everyone kind of ran around trying to find their positions.
We nearly fell out of our seats laughing."
Everyone except Amy thought Jo's description was funny.
"Are you still mad at me, Amy?" Jo sat next to her sister and teasingly reached to touch her hair.
Moving her head out of Jo's reach, Amy replied coolly, "As you can see, we, too, have enjoyed a lovely evening at home.
It was nice to be alone with Mother and Beth for a change."
"That's good. No hard feelings, then?" Jo held out her hand like a man.
Looking at her sister with disdain, Amy ignored her hand but said, "No hard feelings."
Mother watched the exchange between her two daughters uneasily.
She could feel something was not right and wondered whether a major fight was brewing.
Yawning, Jo stood up and stretched. "I'm going to bed. Good night, all."
"I think I'll turn in as well," said Meg.
As they walked up together to their room, Meg turned to Jo and said, "Did you think Amy was acting strangely?"
Jo shrugged and replied, "It's obvious she's still mad at me. But she'll get over it."
With such an exciting evening, the girls had forgotten about Amy's threat.
The next day, however, they would remember it all too well.
On Saturday mornings, Mother allowed the girls to sleep in while she and Hannah prepared their favorite breakfast.
That day Meg was the first one to come down.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Mother greeted her eldest with a kiss.
"Wonderfully, thank you. Last night was so magical," Meg replied dreamily.
"Is Jo still in bed?" asked Mother.
Shaking her head Meg answered, "She's up but she must be in the attic."
No sooner had Meg spoken these words when Jo burst into the room, in her writer's outfit─
old red knitted hat, smelly oversized gray cardigan, and her gloves with the fingers cut out.
Everyone would have laughed at her comical entrance but for the panic written all over her face.
"Jo, what is the matter?" Mother asked, alarmed.
"I can't find it. It's gone," Jo said in a trembling voice.
"What's gone, darling?" Mother tried to calm her shaking daughter.
"My story. The one I've been working on for the past two years.
The one I was writing for Father," Jo replied, not sounding like Jo at all.
"What do you mean it's gone? Are you sure you didn't misplace it?" Mother asked.
"I keep it in my drawer upstairs. Everyone knows that. Why would . . ."
Jo suddenly stopped abruptly, her face white and pained.
"Jo, Jo, please calm down," said Meg, who was thinking the exact same thing as Jo,
but wanted desperately to prevent her sister from doing something drastic.
"That little witch," Jo muttered under her breath.
She pulled her hat off and threw it hard as she sprinted out of the kitchen screaming madly.
At that unfortunate moment, Beth and Amy, awakened by the commotion, came down to see what was causing all the noise.
"What did you do with it?" Jo yelled as soon as she saw Amy.
"Jo! What is the matter with you?" Mother grabbed her wild daughter's arm.
Instead of denying she had anything to do with what was making her sister so angry, Amy pressed her lips together and remained silent.
"Amy?" Mother looked at her, puzzled. "Do you know what happened to Jo's story? If you do, you must speak now."
Wearing a nasty expression, Amy uttered, "I burned it."
The silence that followed was louder than if they had all been screaming at the top of their lungs.
"What?" Jo's voice cracked in agony.
"I burned your stupid story. I told you I would get you back," Amy spat.
Pulling away from her mother's grasp, Jo stomped over to Amy, and slapped her hard across the face.
Then without another word, she ran blindly out of the kitchen, her cries of sorrow spreading throughout the house.
"Jo! Jo!" Mother ran after her distressed daughter.
Holding her red cheek, Amy burst into tears as well.
Wanting to shake her and comfort her at the same time, Meg pulled Amy close to her and said,
"You have done a wicked thing, Amy. I don't know if Jo will ever forgive you."
That day, Jo locked herself in the attic, refusing to eat or even speak to anyone.
No one had ever seen her so disheartened, and it worried everyone tremendously.
After Amy realized how grave her actions were, she quickly began to worry about how she could get Jo to forgive her.
"Do you think Jo will come down for dinner?" she asked childishly.
"She has just lost the most precious thing in her life," Mother spoke to her sternly.
"Do you think she would be thinking about food at this time?"
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I was just so angry at the time," Amy tried to explain.
"It's not me you should be apologizing to," was Mother's cool reply.
"Should I go up and see her?" Amy sniffed.
"Let her be, Amy. Just let her be," Beth said sadly.
"Do you think Jo will ever speak to me again?"
Amy continued with her questions, hoping that someone would say something to ease her troubled heart.
However, no one could provide the words Amy wanted to hear, for what she had done was so horrible that no one blamed Jo for the way she was feeling.
"What have I done?" Amy regretted miserably.