The Outdoor Girls at the Hostess House Part 18

"Allen, don't!" she cried breathlessly. "You forget we're not alone."

"I--don't--care--" he was beginning headily, but she wrenched her hands free, and, eluding him, plunged into the excited group at the other end of the room.

"h.e.l.lo, Betty," Mollie cried, her voice high with excitement. "I guess you were right after all--only it's five whole days sooner than we expected."

"I--I wish they'd stop the old war," sighed Amy, who had come in in time to share the wonderful news. "I just can't bear the thought of it."

"Gee, that would be a nice note," broke in Will boyishly. "After all these weeks of training, to have the war stop just as we got ready to have a hand in it!"

"We'll be lucky if we don't leave a couple of hands in it," said Roy, again trying to be witty and again finding himself the battery for a score of indignant glances.

"If you think that's funny," Grace was beginning when Betty, color high, heart still beating suffocatingly from that brief little battle with Allen and her own inclination, interceded in his behalf.

"Oh, do leave him alone," she cried, patting Roy's scorned shoulder soothingly. "I, for one, would forgive him for anything he said or did just now without even being asked."

Roy gave her a grateful glance and Allen whispered close in her ear.

"You can be kind to every one but the one who loves you, Betty. Is that it?"

His voice was so low that no one but Betty could hear. And Betty felt an added rush of color sting her cheeks, and turned her eyes away to hide the confusion, the sudden fright in them.

If they had been alone no one knows what might have happened. But, even as it was, Allen, watching the flaming color and the downcast eyes, felt his heart leap joyfully and was almost--almost--satisfied.

CHAPTER XV

THE FATEFUL DAY

The rain that had been pouring down steadily all night stopped about dawn.

Betty raised herself on one elbow to look out the window and was greeted by a dazzling burst of sunshine, as the glorious disc dispersed the fog and took possession of the world.

"A good omen," she murmured to herself, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes. "Perhaps that's how the Huns will melt away before our boys!"

"What are you talking to yourself about?" queried Grace, irritably. "A person has a fine chance to sleep--"

"Sleep!" cried Betty, indignantly. "What on earth do you want to sleep for? Do you know what day this is?"

"Friday," Grace answered mechanically, then seeing the point of the question, sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

"Oh, I--forgot," she stammered. "They're--they're going away, aren't they?"

"Yes; unless, they've changed their minds since last night," returned Betty dryly. "Oh, Grace, please don't look so sleepy. You--you annoy me,"

she finished hysterically.

"Well, I'm sorry," said Grace, trying comically to appear dignified. "But it really isn't so strange that I should look the way I feel--"

"Goodness, if I looked the way I feel, I'd be an awful mess," sighed Amy from the other bed.

"Maybe you do," chuckled Mollie. "Shall I get you a mirror?"

"Well, if you'd been awake almost all night," Amy began, but Mollie cut her short with a bear's hug.

"Forgive me, Amy," she said, with unusual humility. "I do know how awful it is to lie awake nearly all night and just think.

"And I shouldn't blame any one the least bit," she finished, "for calling me a mess, because I know I am. I'm positively afraid to look in the mirror."

"All right, we'll have 'em all draped in black, just for your special benefit," said Grace dryly. "Mollie, where did you put my stockings?"

"Goodness, what do you think I am?" retorted Mollie. "Your little French maid?"

"Nothing half so cute," returned Grace ungraciously, while Betty and Amy exchanged glances which, interpreted, meant: "We'll have our hands full with these two, to-day, all right."

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question," Grace persisted. "I asked you what you did with my stockings."

"Oh, I've got 'em on," replied Mollie sarcastically, smothering a yawn. "I mislaid my slumber shoes and used them instead."

The girls giggled and Grace looked around for an instrument of punishment.

Not finding any, she was forced to resort to sarcasm.

"I guess you must have caught that particular form of insanity from Roy,"

she said.

"Well, as long as it wasn't the measles--" Mollie was beginning when Amy broke in with one of those absolutely irrelevant remarks of hers, that made her different from every one else.

"I wonder," she said thoughtfully, "if the boys will fall in love with those nice little French girls. They say they're awfully attractive."

"Amy, what ever put such a thing into your head?" cried Betty, while the other two stared at her wide-eyed, not knowing whether to laugh or to be indignant.

"Oh--nothing," she answered vaguely. "I was just wondering, that's all."

"Well," said Mollie, throwing back the covers preparatory to rising, "I might suggest that the next time you feel it coming on, you might choose something more comfortable, that's all. Wondering about such things might become wearing. What's that?" she asked, as a sharp tap sounded on the door.

"A caller, presumably," Grace remarked, as she slipped on a dressing gown and approached the door.

The early morning caller proved to be, much to their surprise and delight, no other than Mrs. Sanderson.

The old lady's eyes were unusually bright, and there was a flush on her face.

"I haven't been able to sleep all night," she said, her hands fluttering nervously in her lap. "Ever since Betty told me the boys were going this morning I couldn't think of anything but just that one thing."

"I am sorry I told you then until this morning," cried Betty, reproaching herself. "I didn't know it was going to make you feel bad."

"Oh, it wasn't your fault, dear," the old woman hastened to rea.s.sure her.

"And it really didn't make me feel bad--not for them, anyway. They're lucky to be able to fight--even to die--for a country like ours. Only,"

she paused, and some of the light died out of her eyes, "I couldn't help wishing--"