For the first week after Mother left, the March sisters did remarkably well with the housework. They took on additional chores and made time to help each other if needed. Once they were relieved to know that Father was recovering, a great burden was lifted from their heavy hearts, and soon the girls slowly began to return to their old habits.
Without Mother around to praise their hard work the sisters felt it only fair that they deserved a short break from their domestic chores.
Jo caught a bad cold and was not allowed to return to Aunt March’s until she was fully recovered. As Aunt March put it, she didn’t want Jo "spreading dirty germs around the house."
Jo had no complaints as she used the opportunity to catch up on some books that she had been aching to read. She soon settled herself on the sofa with a warm blanket, handkerchief, and cup of hot tea.
Amy found that additional housework had strengthened the muscles in her artist’s hands, giving her another chance to try her skills at clay sculpting. Without looking back, Amy abandoned her apron for her artist’s smock and before long was thumping, mashing, molding, and creating new pieces of art.
Meg, on the other hand, faithfully continued to write to Mother and Father, and more often to Mr. Brookes, who she said would appreciate a warm letter from time to time. In fact, her evenings with paper and pen took up so much time that she was soon neglecting her household duties.
"Amy! If you don’t stop that thumping I’m going to thump your head against that table soon," Jo shouted hoarsely at her sister, who had just destroyed a sculpture and was now trying to soften the clay to turn it into something else.
"You’re so violent and rude," snapped Amy, ignoring Jo’s threats by continuing to beat the clay harder. "Besides, shouldn’t you be in bed resting rather than down here anyway?"
"Girls, can you keep your voices down?" said Meg irritably. "I’m just finishing a letter to Mother and I can’t concentrate with your bickering."
Jo childishly stuck her tongue out at Amy, who returned the gesture.
While the others gradually ignored their chores, not to mention their consciences, Beth alone kept up her work. She would faithfully carry out her tasks as well as the ones her sisters had forgotten or postponed indefinitely. She tried to keep her spirits up by singing and humming to herself as she worked, imagining how wonderful it would be when Mother and Father returned home and they could be a family again. But as angelic as Beth was, she was also human. Sometimes she became so frustrated that she would seek solace in her parents’ room, lying on their bed and pretending they were hugging her. Doing this calmed her and gave her a sense of security so that she could continue her work cheerfully. Beth’s approach seemed to work because her sisters never saw her frowning, speaking insensitively, or acting rudely around them.
One evening, Beth, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing a food basket for the Hummels. She seemed unusually tired and sighed a great deal while she slowly filled the basket with bread, fruit, and hot soup. When her older sisters strolled into the kitchen, Beth looked at them pleadingly and asked, "Would one of you be able to visit the Hummels tonight? I don’t feel well."
Meg, washing her hands, shook her head and answered, "I would if I could, but I must finish this letter to Mother. Then I have to write a short one to Mr. Brookes because Mr. Laurence has an urgent message for him."
"And I can’t . . . ," said Jo, forcing a cough, "because I still have this nasty cold."
"But you seemed well enough to go out with Laurie this afternoon," Beth pointed out gently.
Jo’s face turned crimson as she replied with a chuckle, "I felt better then. But I think I should rest now."
"I’ve been going every night since Mother left, but I was hoping that one of you could go instead just this once," sighed Beth.
Meg and Jo both felt guilty that they hadn’t followed Mother’s instructions to visit the Hummels, yet they didn’t want to leave their warm home and walk in the freezing cold that evening. In order to ease her guilt, Meg suggested, "Darling, just stay in tonight. I’m sure the Hummels have plenty to eat for one evening, then tomorrow I’ll go and see them. I promise."
Beth smiled at her sister and said, "Thanks, Meg. But since I’ve already filled the basket, I’ll go and drop it off at their house. I’ll be back shortly."
Hugging their little sister, Meg and Jo went back to the living room to do their own thing. Sighing, Beth picked up the basket and got ready to leave.
That evening the others decided to turn in early, with Meg complaining of a headache, Jo blaming her cold, and Amy wanting her beauty sleep. Soon after Jo had fallen asleep, however, she was awakened by slow footsteps creeping up the stairs. Alarmed, she silently got out of bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping sisters.
The footsteps stopped in front of her parents’ room, so Jo cautiously tiptoed over and slowly opened the door. What she saw frightened her more than anything she could imagine.
"Beth! Beth! What happened?" she cried, seeing her sister spread out on their parents’ bed. Beth was breathing unevenly and her face was flushed with fever. Panicking, Jo looked around for a washcloth and water to cool Beth’s burning face.
"Jo?" Beth whispered weakly.
"I’m right here, darling," Jo replied, placing a wet washcloth on Beth’s forehead.
"Jo? She died . . . " Beth’s voice broke.
"Who, Beth? Who died?" Jo asked, startled at her words.
"The baby, Hummels’ baby . . . in my arms . . . ," Beth managed to say.
"Oh, my poor darling," Jo cried, holding Beth close to her.
"Doctor said . . . scarlet . . . scarlet fever . . . all the children have it . . . ," continued Beth. "Jo? I might be sick too."
Jo’s heart sank and she wanted to scream aloud with anguish. Scarlet fever, as everyone knew in those days before antibiotics and childhood immunizations, was often fatal. Both Meg and Jo had already had the disease and so their bodies were immune to the bacteria. Amy, on the other hand, had never had scarlet fever, which was both contagious and dangerous.
"I wish I knew what to do!" cried Jo, beating her fists against the bed in frustration.
"Please, Jo, my throat is so dry . . . my head hurts . . . ," Beth mumbled weakly.
Clutching her sister, Jo wept loudly, hating herself for allowing Beth to go to the Hummels when she should have gone, and at the same time, wishing Mother were there to tell her what to do.
"Jo? Keep Amy away. Keep her away . . . ," said Beth before she closed her eyes and became silent.