The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point Part 23

"But I don't know whether I ought to tell you about that or not." Betty was really in earnest. "You see, what he told me was sort of in confidence."

"In confidence!" repeated Grace, adding wickedly: "Now we know it's a serious case."

"Nonsense," said Betty, almost crossly. "He simply said he hadn't been allowed to get into the army because of ill health, but now that he felt well again he was going to try once more. It was that he wanted to write and tell me about. And because I was really interested, I said he might. That's all."

"How romantic!" cried Mollie irrepressibly. "For goodness sake, hurry up and read it, Betty, and relieve our curiosity."

"I'll read it," said Betty firmly, "when I get good and ready, and not one minute before!"

CHAPTER XVIII

SERIOUSLY WOUNDED

They walked the rest of the distance to the house in absorbed silence, reading as they went. Then suddenly Betty gave a little cry of amazement.

"I thought this was for me," she said, holding up a letter. "But it isn't. It's for your mother, Grace. I don't see how I could have made such a mistake!"

But Grace only heard the first part of Betty's speech. The last of it pa.s.sed right over her head.

"A letter for mother?" she cried. "Oh, give it to me, Betty. It may be from dad. Oh, it is! It is!" she exclaimed, as she saw her father's familiar writing. "He must have heard about Will. Mother! Mother--" she broke away from the girls and took the porch steps two at a time, waving the letter wildly as she went.

"Oh, if it's only good news, if it's only good news!" Betty found herself saying over and over again as she, with Mollie, followed Grace into the house.

They found Mrs. Ford in the living room, pale and trembling a little, holding the envelope in her hand as though she dared not open it. Grace had collapsed in a chair and was gazing up at her mother with such agonized pleading in her eyes that the girls could not look at her.

Then very slowly Mrs. Ford tore open the envelope. At the same moment the girls seemed to sense that they might be in some manner intruding, and with one accord they moved over to the window and stood looking out.

After a wait that seemed interminable they heard Grace say in a strained, far-away little voice:

"Mother, what is it? Can't you tell me? I think I'll die if I have to wait any longer."

"Read it," they heard Mrs. Ford say in a choked voice, as a rustle of paper told that she had handed the letter to Grace. "I can't tell you dear. Oh, my boy, my boy!" And she sank down in a chair and covered her face with her hands.

The girls turned from the window and started to leave the room, for they felt that the moment was too sacred for even them who were so intensely interested, to share.

Just as they reached the door they paused, arrested by a cry from Grace.

"Seriously wounded!" she read in a m.u.f.fled voice. "Oh, Mother, for all we know, that may mean Will is--dead!"

They were startled by a m.u.f.fled sob, and turned in time to see Amy rush from the room. Poor little Amy! In the excitement and grief of the moment they had forgotten that she might also be affected by this news of Will!

Betty and Mollie ran upstairs after her, leaving Grace and her mother together.

"And I was so hoping," said Betty as she closed the door softly and Mollie flung herself on the bed, "that it would be good news."

"Yes," said Mollie, staring moodily out the window, "it does seem that everything terrible that can happen to us is happening all at once. I wonder what's next."

"There isn't going to be any next," said Betty, but in her heart she was not so sure. Almost everyone in the world was suffering, one way or another, and it was only to be expected that they would get their full share.

And as she thought of Allen a hot wave of fear went over her, leaving her faint and sick. Out there in the very thickest of the fight, it would be a miracle if he should be saved to come back to her.

But he must come back, he _must_ come back, her heart cried over and over again. Hadn't he said he would? And Allen always kept his word.

Then she shook herself, and with an effort brought her wandering thought back to this new trouble--or rather, confirmation of an old one.

From the time Mrs. Ford had received the telegram telling of Will's wound, they had hoped against hope that it had been a mistake, or that at least, the wound had not been serious.

But this new report from Was.h.i.+ngton seemed to put an end to that hope, and there was nothing to do but to face the terrible reality. Will was seriously wounded in some hospital in France, and, as Grace had said, that might mean that even now he was in a critical condition, perhaps, for all they knew, he had died out there away from all his dear ones and the friends that loved him.

"I don't suppose there is any use acting as though he were dead already," said Mollie, breaking in upon her unhappy reverie. "There have been several thousand wounded soldiers over there who have recovered."

"Yes, only to be sent back again to the firing line and have it done all over," said Betty bitterly, for, for a time at least, her staunch optimism had deserted her and she was ready to see the blackest side of everything.

"Yes, it does seem that once a soldier has gone down to the very gates of death, he should be exempted," sighed Mollie, adding dispiritedly: "But I suppose if they made that a rule they wouldn't have any armies left after awhile."

"And the boys themselves don't want to be exempted," said Betty, feeling a little thrill of pride in spite of her heartache. "Their one biggest reason for getting well is to be able to get another 'whack at the Hun.'"

"Shall we go and see if we can cheer up Amy?" she asked after an interval filled with gloomy meditation. "She is so brave and quiet about everything that you never have a chance to guess how hard she is taking her trouble. Poor girl!"

"I do feel awfully sorry for her," agreed Mollie, s.h.i.+fting unhappily, "but I must say I don't feel very capable of cheering anybody up myself.

I never felt so horribly discouraged in my life."

"Well, it doesn't do any good to think about it," said Betty. "Maybe if we try to make poor Amy feel better we'll help ourselves at the same time."

"I suppose it won't do any harm to try," agreed Mollie, rising wearily.

"But I wish somebody would lend me a smile for a little while till I get mine back again. I might be able to play the role of merry little suns.h.i.+ne better."

She gave Betty a wry little smile, and arm in arm they started down the hall to Amy's room.

The found the door shut, and tapped lightly upon it. When there was no response they rapped again, then tried the k.n.o.b and found the door was locked.

"Whatever in the world--" Mollie was beginning apprehensively, when a plaintive voice in the room behind the closed door interrupted her.

"Who is it?"

"It's we, Dear--Mollie and Betty," answered Betty quickly. "Can't you let us in?"

"I--I'd rather not," replied the voice falteringly. "I'm all right, and I'll be out in a minute. Please don't worry about me. You ought to be used to my making a goose of myself by this time." This last accompanied by a pitiful little attempt at a laugh.

"All right, Honey," Betty spoke sympathetically, for she had often seen the time when even her best friend would have been in the way. "We only wanted to help, that's all. When you want us we'll be in my room."

Amy murmured something in reply, and they slipped back again into the other room and closed the door.

"I guess she feels it even worse than we thought she did," said Mollie pityingly. "When Amy cries she is pretty well cut up."