The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point Part 26

"Betty's so proud and so brave," said Amy gently, as she sank into a chair and looked up, wide-eyed, at the other two. "Only this afternoon she let us see how terribly she cared."

"And no wonder," said Grace, for there was real grief in her heart.

"There never was a finer fellow than Allen. He made us all love him."

"But there we go again, speaking as if he were dead," protested Mollie.

"There is always hope, since his name is only among the missing."

"Yes, of course; but it is generally as Betty said," returned Grace.

"Nine-tenths of the men reported missing are either dead or have fallen into the hands of the Germans."

Mollie shuddered.

"Poor little Betty," she said. "The very thought of it is enough to drive her crazy."

"If she would only let us comfort her," sighed Amy.

"I--I really think that if she doesn't call us in a few minutes, we'd better go up anyway," said Grace nervously. "She looked so terribly queer and unlike herself that I'm worried to death. Hark! Did you hear something?"

The girls listened, but all they could hear was the sighing of the wind about the house. Then, far off in the distance, came a soft rumble of thunder.

"Oh, I hope it doesn't storm," cried Amy, shivering. "That would be about the last straw."

And upstairs, in the room that Betty shared with Grace, grief and fear and horror stalked about unfettered and gazed upon the little figure on the bed.

So still and white and rigid it was that the girls would have been still more frightened could they have seen it. For, propped on her elbows, with grim, set face supported by her clenched fists, Betty was gazing unseeingly out at the darkness beyond the square of window pane.

"Somewhere he's out there," she kept saying over and over to herself.

"If he's dead, there's the mud and grime--" she shuddered "--and blood too--rivers of it. But if he's captured--Oh, I can't think--I mustn't think--"

And then she would begin all over again--

"Allen is lying out there--" over and over again, till her brain whirled and her head ached and she felt faint and sick. Still she could not cry.

Her heart was frozen--that was it. And how could one cry when one's heart was frozen? Oh, Allen! Allen! How could she go on living without him? If she could only cry--if she could only cry!

What was that? Thunder. The artillery of heaven! Did they have war in heaven, she wondered. With a queer little laugh she got up and walked to the window.

A flash of lightning greeted her, illumining the world outside, flashing into bold relief the familiar objects of the little room. She knelt down by the window, regardless of danger, and lifted her face to the rising wind.

She welcomed the storm. It seemed, in some mysterious way, to quiet the tumult within her. She stretched out her arms to it and cried aloud her misery.

"Allen, my Allen, you will come back to me, won't you, dear? You promised. Oh, Allen, if you're alive are you thinking of me now? Are you thinking of Betty?"

A sharper clap of thunder seemed to answer her, and then quite suddenly the ice melted from about her heart. Her head went down upon her arms and great sobs shook her from head to foot.

It was so the girls found her a few minutes later, and with cries of pity lifted her to her feet and half-led, half-carried her back to the bed.

"We didn't know whether to come up or not," Mollie said hesitatingly.

"But we thought maybe you would need us, Dear. If you would rather be alone--"

But Betty shook her head and reached out an unsteady little hand which Mollie instantly took in her warm clasp.

"No, I want you to stay," she said, trying desperately to choke back her sobs. "If some one will--just please--give me a--h-handkerchief."

Amy slipped one into her hand, and Betty dabbed fiercely at the tears which still would come.

"Don't try not to cry, Honey," whispered Mollie, putting an understanding arm about the Little Captain's shoulders and holding her close. "Tears are just the very best things in the world to help one through a crisis."

"Yes," added Grace, gently smoothing the hair back from Betty's hot forehead, while Amy sprinkled some toilet water on a fresh handkerchief and slipped it un.o.btrusively into Betty's other hand, "we'll just sit here and wait till you're all through."

"Then we're going to take you down and give you some hot tea and toast and love you a little," finished Amy.

All of which loving sympathy very nearly caused a fresh outburst on Betty's part. However, she finally got the better of the storm within her and even managed a little smile for the benefit of the girls.

Then she wiped away the last tear, sighed, and walked over to the window.

"The storm didn't amount to much after all," she said, after a while, very quietly. "Perhaps," and her voice was very wistful, "it's a good omen. We'll all hope so, anyway."

"Betty, Betty, you're so wonderful," cried Mollie adoringly. "I never saw any one so brave. You make me ashamed of myself."

"Oh, but I'm not brave," denied Betty, turning back to them. "I'm not the least little bit brave. I--I went all to pieces a few minutes ago.

But he isn't reported dead," she added, drawing herself up, while two defiant spots of color burned in her face. "And until he is, I'm going to hold on to the hope that he is coming back. n.o.body can take that from me, anyway!"

"Now, you're making me ashamed of myself," said Grace in a small voice, while the tears glistened in her eyes. "Here I've been imagining the very worst, while you-- Oh, Betty, forgive me, won't you, Dear?"

Betty looked at her in real surprise.

"I haven't anything to forgive," she said.

CHAPTER XXI

A NARROW ESCAPE

The next day dawned gloriously bright, and the girls chose to take it as a good omen. Following Betty's example, they stopped moping about and imagining the worst, and, although there was not a minute of the day when their hearts were not aching, they managed to smile when the others were looking and to speak hopefully of the future. Under Betty's gallant leadership, they had set up hope in their hearts and refused to give despair a foothold.

"What do you say to a swim?" Mollie suggested, looking out over the sparkling white sand to the inviting water beyond. "We've only been in swimming twice since we've been here."

"That is a terrible record for Outdoor Girls," Betty agreed. She was bustling busily about the cheerful kitchen making a tempting blueberry pie. There were circles under her eyes and she looked very pale for Betty, but her voice was bright and cheery.

"Can't you stop making pies for a few minutes?" asked Mollie, turning to look at her. "It's too nice outdoors to waste time in cooking."

"I imagine you wouldn't say that to-night," retorted Betty, fluting the edges of her pie crust. "I notice you generally like the results of my labor."

"Who wouldn't?" returned Mollie. "I only know of one person who can make better pies."