"What's the matter, Grace—I mean more than usual?" Betty laid aside her book and looked over at Grace questioningly. "I don't believe you've said three consecutive words all day long."
"And left to myself I wouldn't say that much," returned Grace moodily, adding, as they turned to stare at her: "It seems as if I never open my mouth these days but what I say something unpleasant, so I made up my mind last night that I wouldn't talk till I had something cheerful to talk about."
"Then you're apt to be dumb till doomsday," retorted Mollie, with such a depth of pessimism that the girls had to smile at her.
"What an awful thing to happen to a girl," said Betty, with a wry little smile.
"I'm glad you didn't say what girl," retorted Grace, and therewith subsided into her gloomy meditation again.
Betty took up her book and Amy went on with her knitting while the rain came down in torrents and the surf thundered and roared.
Mollie turned from the window and looked at them, and the whole situation suddenly appealed to her rather hysterical sense of humor. She began to laugh, and the longer she laughed the harder she laughed till she sank into a chair and shook with mirth.
The other girls first looked surprised, then alarmed.
Betty threw down her book and went over to her.
"For goodness sake, Mollie, what's the joke?" she asked, as Mollie looked up at her with red face and watery eyes.