“They’re in sailor costume!” exclaimed Betty. “What do you think of that! It is Donald Hilton standing up there. I should think he would fall in!”
A fine-looking lot of sailors they were, rowing away. At a distance there was a small vessel from which they had come. Presently the boat came up to the dock, where by this time the whole party were waiting. The sailors rested on their oars, smiling in friendly fashion, while the officer in charge gave some order to Donald as he leaped out.
“I’ve just about five minutes, folks,” said Donald, as he shook hands with one and another in turn. “Have I permission, Mrs. Norris?”
“Just as long as you like, Mr. Hilton—I do not know your rank. I am only familiar with the infantry insignia.”
“Not very far up yet, Mrs. Norris. What is the Doctor by now?”
“A first lieutenant.”
“We’re doing a little scouting for Uncle Sam, and I got permission to stop here a few minutes to ‘see my folks’, or some of them.” Donald gave a whimsical glance at Betty.
“I think I’ll give you a little opportunity to visit with Betty,” said Mrs. Norris. “Since you can have so short a time, we will shake hands again and wish you safety and success. Come again.”
Mrs. Norris and the other girls drew away, walking slowly along the beach in the direction of the school. It was quite marked, the appropriation of Betty, yet in those times a few precious moments, with friends perhaps so soon to go across, were of first importance.
“Wasn’t that good of her? Betty, I’ve got your dear little picture safe in here,” and Donald patted the place where his heart was supposed to be. “I live on your letters, and haven’t been where I could get them for a week or two. We’re on a little detail with some secret service men. I can’t tell you about it now, and please don’t mention the secret service.”