Little Vampire Women. Lynn Messina

had had many lively skirmishes in the course of their lives, for both had quick tempers and were apt to be violent when fairly roused. Amy teased Jo, and Jo irritated Amy, and semi-occasional explosions occurred, with both girls showing their fangs and snarling madly and diving into the other like eager, rabid dogs. Although the oldest, Jo had the least self-control, and had hard times trying to curb the fiery spirit which was continually getting her into trouble. Her anger never lasted long, and having humbly confessed her fault, she sincerely repented and tried to do better. Her sisters used to say that they rather liked to get Jo into a fury because she was such an angel afterwards. Poor Jo tried desperately to be good, but her bosom enemy was always ready to flame up and defeat her, and it took years of patient effort to subdue it.

      When they got home, they found Amy reading in the parlour. She assumed an injured air as they came in, never lifted her eyes from her book, or asked a single question. Perhaps curiosity might have conquered resentment, if Beth had not been there to inquire and receive a glowing description of the play. On going up to put away her best hat, Jo’s first look was towards the bureau, for in their last quarrel Amy had soothed her feelings by turning Jo’s top drawer upside down on the floor. Everything was in its place, however, and after a hasty glance into her various closets, bags and boxes, Jo decided that Amy had forgiven and forgotten her wrongs.

      There Jo was mistaken, for next day she made a discovery which produced a tempest. Meg, Beth and Amy were sitting together, late in the evening, when Jo burst into the room, looking excited and demanding breathlessly, “Has anyone taken my notebook?”

      Meg and Beth said, “No” at once, and looked surprised. Amy poked the fire and said nothing. Jo saw the look on her face and was down upon her in a minute.

      “Amy, you’ve got it!”

      “No, I haven’t.”

      “You know where it is, then!”

      “No, I don’t.”

      “That’s a fib!” cried Jo, taking her by the shoulders, and looking fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy.

      “It isn’t. I haven’t got it, don’t know where it is now, and don’t care.”

      “You know something about it, and you’d better tell at once, or I’ll make you.” And Jo gave her a shake.

      “Scold as much as you like, you’ll never see your silly old book again,” cried Amy, getting excited in her turn.

      “Why not?”

      “I burned it up.”

      “What! My little book in which for years I’ve been keeping detailed notes about all my slayer-hunting activities? Have you really burned it?” said Jo, her eyes kindling as her hands clutched Amy’s throat.

      “Yes, I did! I told you I’d make you pay for being so cross yesterday, and I have, so…”

      Amy got no further, for Jo’s hot temper mastered her, and she shook Amy by the neck till her teeth chattered in her head, crying in a passion of grief and anger…

      “You wicked, wicked girl! I never can write it again, and I’ll never forgive you as long as I live.”

      Meg flew to rescue Amy, who did not need air to breathe so was no worse off for being deprived of it, and Beth to pacify Jo, but Jo was quite beside herself, and with a parting box on her sister’s ear, which ejected an upper right molar, she rushed out of the room up to the old sofa in the garret and finished her argument alone, beating up several dozen training figures.

      The storm cleared up below, for Mrs March came home, and, having heard the story, soon brought Amy to a sense of the wrong she had done her sister. Jo’s notebook was the pride of her heart, and she was regarded by her family as a vampire defender of great promise. It was only half a dozen little chapters of tactical fighting schemes she’d invented and hoped to implement one day, but Jo had worked over them patiently, recording every detail and thought she’d ever had. She had just copied them with great care, and had destroyed the old notes, so that Amy’s bonfire had consumed the loving work of several years. It seemed a small loss to others, but to Jo it was a dreadful calamity, and she felt that it never could be made up to her. Beth mourned as for a kitten that ran away before she could eat it, and Meg refused to defend Amy. Mrs March looked grave and grieved, and Amy felt that no one would love her till she had asked pardon for the act which she now regretted more than any of them.

      When the supper bell rang, Jo appeared, looking so grim and unapproachable that it took all Amy’s courage to say meekly…

      “Please forgive me, Jo. I’m very, very sorry.”

      “I never shall forgive you,” was Jo’s stern answer, and from that moment she ignored Amy entirely.

      As Jo received her kiss before sleep, Mrs March whispered gently, “My dear, don’t let the sun come up upon your anger. Forgive each other, help each other, and begin again tonight.”

      She shook her head, and said gruffly because Amy was listening, “It was an abominable thing, and she doesn’t deserve to be forgiven.”

      With that she marched off to her coffin, and there was no merry or confidential gossip that morning.

      That evening, still feeling detestably angry, Jo asked Laurie to go skating with her. He was always kind and jolly and would put her to rights.

      Amy heard the clash of skates, and looked out with an impatient exclamation, then, after a flurry to get ready, ran after her friends, who were just disappearing over the hill.

      It was not far to the river, but both were ready before Amy reached them. Jo saw her coming, and turned her back. Laurie did not see, for he was carefully skating along the shore, sounding the ice, for a warm spell had preceded the cold snap.

      “I’ll go on to the first bend, and see if it’s all right before we begin to race,” Amy heard him say, as he shot away, looking like a young Russian in his fur-trimmed coat and cap.

      Jo heard Amy stamping her feet and blowing on her fingers as she tried to put her skates on, but Jo never turned and went slowly zigzagging down the river, taking a bitter, unhappy sort of satisfaction in her sister’s troubles. She had cherished her anger till it grew strong and took possession of her, as evil thoughts and feelings always do unless cast out at once. As Laurie turned the bend, he shouted back…

      “Keep near the shore. It isn’t safe in the middle.” Jo heard, but Amy was struggling to her feet and did not catch a word. Jo glanced over her shoulder, and the little demon she was harbouring said in her ear…

      “No matter whether she heard or not, let her take care of herself. Besides, a little cold water won’t hurt her.”

      Laurie had vanished round the bend, Jo was just at the turn, and Amy, far behind, striking out towards the smoother ice in the middle of the river. For a minute Jo stood still with a strange feeling in her heart, then she resolved to go on, but something held and turned her round, just in time to see Amy throw up her hands and go down, with a sudden crash of rotten ice, into the river, whose current was suddenly swift and strong and carrying Amy towards a large sharp branch hanging just above the water. Jo’s heart stood still with fear. She tried to call Laurie, but her voice was gone. She tried to rush forward, but her feet seemed to have no strength in them, and for a second, she could only stand motionless, staring with a terror-stricken face at the little blue hood careening towards the branch. Something rushed swiftly by her, and Laurie’s voice cried out…