At teatime they compared notes, and all agreed that it had been a delightful, though unusually long day. Meg, who went shopping in the afternoon, and got a “sweet blue muslin,” had discovered, after she had cut the breadths off, that it wouldn’t wash, which mishap made her slightly cross. Jo had burnt the skin off her nose boating, and got a raging headache by reading too long. Beth was worried by the confusion of her closet, and the difficulty of learning three or four songs at once; and Amy deeply regretted the damage done her frock, for Katy Brown’s party was to be the next day; and now, like Flora McFlimsey, she had “nothing to wear.” But these were mere trifles; and they assured their mother that the experiment was working finely. She smiled, said nothing, and, with Hannah’s help, did their neglected work, keeping home pleasant, and the domestic machinery running smoothly. It was astonishing what a peculiar and uncomfortable state of things was produced by the “resting and revelling” process. The days kept getting longer and longer; the weather was unusually variable, and so were tempers; an unsettled feeling possessed everyone, and Satan found plenty of mischief for the idle hands to do.