CHAPTER XX
MISSING
Mollie took the paper from Betty's unresisting hand, smoothed it out,traced her finger down the column and finally came to the name shesought.
"Sergeant Allen Washburn," she read in a small, awed voice, while theother girls crowded close to look over her shoulder.
"Dead?" queried Grace breathlessly.
"No," Mollie shook her head. "He's among the missing."
"That means," said Betty, lifting a face so still and white that itstartled the girls, "that he is either dead or worse than dead. I woulda thousand times rather he were dead than have him taken prisoner by theGermans."
"But we don't know that he has been captured--"
"That's what missing almost always means," insisted Betty, still in thatstrange, lifeless voice. "That," she added, as though speaking toherself, "was the column I always read first, because I was most afraidof it. I think," she got up unsteadily, and Mollie ran around to her,"that if you don't mind, I'll go upstairs a little while."
She started for the door while the girls watched her dumbly, not knowingwhat to do or say. Then suddenly Grace ran after her.
"Betty, darling!" she cried, her own grief forgotten in her pity for herchum, "let me come too, won't you? I don't suppose I'd be any good toyou just now, but I'd do my best."
"Let us all come, won't you, Dear?" begged Mollie, while Amy's eyessilently pleaded.
But Betty only shook her head, smiling a pitiful little white smile, atthem.
"Not just now--please," she said. "After a while I'll--I'll call you."
They watched her run upstairs and heard her door close quietly, oh, soquietly, behind her.
Left behind, the girls looked at one another with wide frightened eyes.
"Girls, she worries me," said Mollie, speaking in a whisper, almost asif there were death in the house. "She is so quiet and still. And whenone knows Betty--"
"If she could only cry a little," said Grace, speaking in the same tone."It makes things so much worse when you keep them bottled up that way."
"Betty's so proud and so brave," said Amy gently, as she sank into achair and looked up, wide-eyed, at the other two. "Only this afternoonshe 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 falleninto the hands of the Germans."
Mollie shuddered.
"Poor little Betty," she said. "The very thought of it is enough todrive 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'dbetter go up anyway," said Grace nervously. "She looked so terriblyqueer and unlike herself that I'm worried to death. Hark! Did you hearsomething?"
The girls listened, but all they could hear was the sighing of the windabout the house. Then, far off in the distance, came a soft rumble ofthunder.
"Oh, I hope it doesn't storm," cried Amy, shivering. "That would beabout the last straw."
And upstairs, in the room that Betty shared with Grace, grief and fearand horror stalked about unfettered and gazed upon the little figure onthe bed.
So still and white and rigid it was that the girls would have been stillmore frightened could they have seen it. For, propped on her elbows,with grim, set face supported by her clenched fists, Betty was gazingunseeingly 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 bloodtoo--rivers of it. But if he's captured--Oh, I can't think--I mustn'tthink--"
And then she would begin all over again--
"Allen is lying out there--" over and over again, till her brain whirledand 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'sheart was frozen? Oh, Allen! Allen! How could she go on living withouthim? If she could only cry--if she could only cry!
What was that? Thunder. The artillery of heaven! Did they have war inheaven, she wondered. With a queer little laugh she got up and walked tothe window.
A flash of lightning greeted her, illumining the world outside, flashinginto bold relief the familiar objects of the little room. She knelt downby the window, regardless of danger, and lifted her face to the risingwind.
She welcomed the storm. It seemed, in some mysterious way, to quiet thetumult within her. She stretched out her arms to it and cried aloud hermisery.
"Allen, my Allen, you will come back to me, won't you, dear? Youpromised. Oh, Allen, if you're alive are you thinking of me now? Are youthinking of Betty?"
A sharper clap of thunder seemed to answer her, and then quite suddenlythe ice melted from about her heart. Her head went down upon her armsand great sobs shook her from head to foot.
It was so the girls found her a few minutes later, and with cries ofpity lifted her to her feet and half-led, half-carried her back to thebed.
"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 bealone--"
But Betty shook her head and reached out an unsteady little hand whichMollie instantly took in her warm clasp.
"No, I want you to stay," she said, trying desperately to choke back hersobs. "If some one will--just please--give me a--h-handkerchief."
Amy slipped one into her hand, and Betty dabbed fiercely at the tearswhich still would come.
"Don't try not to cry, Honey," whispered Mollie, putting anunderstanding arm about the Little Captain's shoulders and holding herclose. "Tears are just the very best things in the world to help onethrough a crisis."
"Yes," added Grace, gently smoothing the hair back from Betty's hotforehead, while Amy sprinkled some toilet water on a fresh handkerchiefand slipped it unobtrusively into Betty's other hand, "we'll just sithere and wait till you're all through."
"Then we're going to take you down and give you some hot tea and toastand love you a little," finished Amy.
All of which loving sympathy very nearly caused a fresh outburst onBetty's part. However, she finally got the better of the storm withinher and even managed a little smile for the benefit of the girls.
Then she wiped away the last tear, sighed, and walked over to thewindow.
"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 goodomen. We'll all hope so, anyway."
"Betty, Betty, you're so wonderful," cried Mollie adoringly. "I neversaw any one so brave. You make me ashamed of myself."
"Oh, but I'm not brave," denied Betty, turning back to them. "I'm notthe 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 twodefiant spots of color burned in her face. "And until he is, I'm goingto hold on to the hope that he is coming back. Nobody can take that fromme, 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 thevery 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.