"And then I had to go and spoil everything by making a baby of myself," Betty lamented. "Goodness, I've cried more in the last week than in all the rest of my life before."
"Well, you have had plenty of company," said Grace dryly. "Though what comfort that is, I never could see."
Betty sat up, dabbed a last tear from her eyes, and looked about her with a weak little attempt at a smile.
"Well," she said, "now that Mollie and I have entertained the company, I wonder who's next?"
"I'll recite that little ditty entitled, 'The Face On the Barroom Floor'," Amy volunteered. "Some kind person wished it upon me when I was too young to object."
"Don't you dare," said Grace, alarmed. "If you do I'm going out, rain or no rain—"
"And get drowned."
"Well, there are worse things."
"No there aren't," denied Amy, with a shiver. "I know, because I tried it."
At that moment came an interruption in the shape of a sharp rapping at the kitchen door.