"'But do you know what that old boy said when I happened to comment upon the excellent nursing he must have had?'" Grace read on, while Amy tried hard to look unconcerned. "'He reached under his pillow and pulled out three pictures. "Those are my three girls," he said, and I swear there was moisture in his eyes. "You probably won't believe me, old man, but there isn't a girl or woman over here who could make me look twice at her unless she resembles one of those," and he pointed to the photographs I still held.
"'And when I opened them there was Mrs. Ford's face smiling up at me as sweet as life, and Grace with her best Gibson Girl expression—you can tell her from me that that is some picture of her—And who do you think the third was?'"
Grace paused again and looked over slyly at Amy, who turned away her face, only just showing the tip of one furiously blushing ear.
"'It was Amy Blackford,'" Grace read on, "'And it was one fine picture of her too. Gosh, I didn't know it was as serious as all that, did you, little girl? But then the war does make a fellow feel about ten years older than he really is, and the girls at home suddenly seem the most desirable and necessary things on earth. And Amy did look so sweet and comfy and altogether like home that I couldn't blame the old chap.
"'Then I pulled out the picture of the most beautiful girl in the world and we talked about home and—other things, you know—until we were ready to weep on each other's shoulders and the handsome nurse put me out.
"'Do you know what I'm going to do the first minute I reach good old U. S. A. territory, Betty de—'"
But the sentence was never finished, for with a quick movement, Betty snatched the letter away and hugged it to her breast while her face flamed.
"That's all you get," she cried, "the rest belongs to me. Oh, girls, did you ever hear such wonderful news? Allen strong and well and Will recovering splendidly, and both of them so sweet and loyal. Oh, I could kiss that beautiful red-haired angel who brought all this happiness to us. Where is he? Has he gone back again?"
"Yes, he has, and what do we care!" cried Grace wildly, her face radiant. "Amy, you little goose, you're not crying are you? Don't you know there isn't a thing in the world to cry about? Come on—laugh, you sweet, comfy, little thing. Don't you know that Will is getting better and keeps our pictures under his pillow? That darling, wonderful, adorable boy. Great heavens!" She stopped suddenly and a dismayed expression crept over her face. "Excuse me, please," and she was racing up the stairs, leaving the girls to look after her, bewildered.
"What in the world," began Betty, when Amy lifted a face, shining radiantly through her tears.