"Of course you are right, Betty dear, you always are!" cried Mollie, taking heart and even smiling a little. "We can't do anybody good by moping."
"No," added Grace with a philosophy unusual in her. "That's why we have the hardest share, I guess—because we have to keep gay and bright, no matter how we feel."
"And we still have our work at the Hostess House," Amy reminded them. "Maybe," she added, a little wistfully, "if we work hard enough we'll be able to forget—"
"What's all this about working and forgetting?" cried Mrs. Nelson, coming gayly into the room. "I thought you had come home for a vacation."
The girls explained, and Mrs. Nelson looked pityingly at their grave young faces.
"So that is it," she was beginning, when Mollie sprang to her feet with a cry. She was staring at the paper that Mrs. Nelson had carelessly thrown on the table.
"What is it?" they cried, as she snatched it up and read the glaring headlines.
"The Hostess House!" gasped Mollie. "Gone! Burnt up! Read this!"
Dazedly the girls obeyed, the big type seeming to strike them in the face as they read:
"Great Fire at Camp Liberty! Hostess House and Several Barracks Buildings Burned to the Ground!"