CHAPTER XIII
"SMILE, GIRLS, SMILE"
"Wake up, Gracie." Betty's voice was low and excited as she shook herfriend into semi-wakefulness. "The boys have to catch the earlytrain, you know, and we mustn't keep them waiting."
"Yes, I know," said Grace, waking to full consciousness without aprotest--for the first time since Betty had known her. "What time isit, Betty?"
"Six-thirty," answered Betty, beginning to dress hurriedly. "That'sfifteen minutes later than we should be. Oh, if we should miss seeingthem off!"
"Betty, I don't feel like myself at all," said Grace, after a silenceduring which they had both been plunged in thought. She flourished ashoe in the air and regarded Betty as though it were her fault. "I feelall quivery and shaky and trembly inside, and I don't think I couldsmile if you paid me for it."
"Goodness, I know I couldn't!" said Betty, and then added as shepinned on the bunch of carnations Allen had brought her the nightbefore: "We've just got to smile, though, whether we feel like it ornot. We don't want the boys to remember us in tears."
"I should say not!" responded Grace emphatically. "When I cry I'm aperfect fright. That's why I never do it."
Betty chuckled despite the dull ache at her heart.
"I wasn't quite thinking of that," she said. "But it surely will bebetter if we're able to smile a little bit. Come on--let's practice."
They stood together before the mirror, doing their best to smilenaturally, and their very failure to do it made them laugh atthemselves.
"If we're not a couple of geese," said Betty, as arms intertwined,they descended the stairs. "That's about the first time we ever hadto _try_ to smile. Now for a bite of breakfast."
But, try though they did, they could not eat, and finally had to giveit up entirely.
"We were all to meet at Mollie's, weren't we?" asked Grace, as theymade their way down the sun-flooded street. "Oh, Betty, I'm afraid tomeet anybody, I'm so sure I'm going to make a goose of myself. Willyou hold my hand all the time?"
"Of course," said Betty, laughing unsteadily. "It's always hard tosay good-bye to anybody you--you--like," she added, "but when they'regoing away to war and you may never see them again----"
"Please don't," begged Grace, squeezing her hand convulsively. "Ifyou talk like that I just can't stand it, that's all. It wouldn'ttake very much----"
"All right, I won't do it again," cried Betty with forced gaiety."Isn't that Mollie waving to us? Of course it is. Come on, Grace,I'll run you a race."
But Grace was in no mind to run a race, and Betty reached the meetingplace alone, with Grace trailing in the rear.
"Have any of the boys reached here yet?" asked Betty as she ran upthe steps. "I was afraid we'd be late."
"No, they haven't come," said Mollie, looking anxiously down thestreet; "and I'm so afraid they'll be late and miss the train, Idon't know what to do. Do you suppose they could have forgotten?"
"Mollie Billette," cried Betty, looking at her wonderingly, "what onearth----"
"Oh, I know I'm impossibly silly," cried Mollie, dropping into achair and rocking nervously; "but I just don't know what I'm sayingthis morning. I feel as if somebody was dead."
"Not yet--but soon," boomed a deep voice behind them that made themjump a foot.
"Roy Anderson!" cried Mollie, her French temper flaring forth."That's a nice thing to do--come up behind us and scare us all todeath. And it's not nice to joke about such a serious thing, either."
"Gee, it won't do any good to cry about it," retorted Royphilosophically, looking around upon the three pretty girls with anappreciative eye. "I call it a great lark, and if only you girls werecoming along my happiness would be complete."
"Where are the other boys?" broke in Betty. "I thought you were allcoming together."
"I called for both of them," Roy answered, grinning, "but it seemsthey'd overslept themselves, and they said they'd be along later."
"Well, if it's very _much_ later," said Grace grimly, "they might aswell go back to bed again. That train isn't going to wait."
"Oh, they'll be here all right," Roy assured her confidently."They're not going to be left behind when there's any adventure likethis afoot."
"Here they come now," cried Betty, running to the edge of the porchand waving frantically. "Amy's with them, too. Must have picked herup on the way."
"We'll save time if we go on down to meet them," Roy suggested,taking Grace by the arm. "Come along, girls, we really haven't anytime to waste."
Betty and Mollie needed no such invitation. They were down the stepsand flying along the street before Grace had risen from her chair.
"Oh, we were so afraid you'd be late," gasped Betty, as Allen caughther on the wing, as it were, and drew her to his side. "And if youweren't there on time, you might be tried for desertion, mightn'tyou?" she added, looking so adorable in her concern that Allen failedto reassure her right away.
"Well, I don't know that we have to be there just on the minute," heanswered, smiling down at her. "But I may be really tried fordesertion some day. I can't stay away from you very long, Betty."
She flushed and turned her eyes away.
"I wouldn't get you into any trouble for the world," she saiddemurely.
"Will you write every day?" pleaded Allen, leaning close, and for themoment these two were absolutely alone. "Letters are the next bestthing to having you with me, Betty. And if you stop writing, I giveyou fair warning I'll come straight home on the next train, furloughor no furlough, to see what the matter is; and if I get shot atsunrise, so much the better. Betty, will you promise me?" He said itpleadingly.
"I--I'll try to write every day," she answered, still not daring tolook at him; "but you mustn't mind if some days it's only a littleline. I'm going to be terribly busy."
"I expect to be busy, too," said Allen, drawing himself up a little;"but I'd manage to find time to write to you every day if I had tolet other things go."
"Allen," she laid a hand on his arm and he covered it eagerly withhis own, "I _will_ write to you every day and it will be a good longone, too."
"Not from a sense of duty?" he asked, still a little unbelieving,though his heart was throbbing painfully. "You won't write justbecause you'll think I'll be expecting it, Betty?"
"No," she said, her voice very low, so low that he had to bend closeto catch the words. "I'll write to you, Allen--because I--can't helpmyself."
"Betty," he cried, "look at me."
"Th-there's the engine whistle," she said unsteadily.
"Engine whistle be hanged!" cried Allen explosively. "Betty, I wantyou to look at me."
Then, as she still turned from him, he deliberately put a handbeneath her chin and turned her face to meet his.
"Betty, little Betty," he cried tenderly, seeing that her eyes werewet with tears, "do you care as much as that? Little girl----"
"D-don't be nice to me," she sobbed, feeling for her handkerchief. "Idon't want to c-cry. I want to send you away with a s-smile----"
"Betty," he cried, crushing her to him for a minute, as the trainthundered into the station, "I love you, I love you--do you hearthat? Goodbye, little girl--little girl----"
The boys tore themselves away, not daring to look back until theyreached the train. And the girls stood in a pathetically brave littlegroup, waving to them and smiling through their tears.