"But, Honey, it isn't nearly as bad as it might be," said Betty, trying to sooth while wanting desperately to know herself just how bad it was. "You said he was only wounded, didn't you?"
"That's what the telegram said," Grace answered, wiping her eyes drearily. "But how do we know but what he may be dead by this time?"
"We don't know, of course," returned Betty, recovering a little of her optimism while she unostentatiously handed Grace a fresh handkerchief, "but the chances are against it."
"But perhaps they said he was just wounded to l-let us down easy," cried Grace, evidently convinced that there was no bright side to look upon.
"The Government doesn't do that; it hasn't time," argued Betty. "It always lets you know the worst at once."
A gleam of hope came into Grace's eyes.
"Then you think there's a chance?" she queried, sitting up straight and beginning to look a little more interested in life. "Do you think he may get well?"
"Why, of course," said Betty, adding reasonably: "If you would tell me just what the telegram said, I'd have more to go on."
"That's all it said—what I told you," replied Grace, relaxing wearily. "Just said that he was wounded—nothing more. Dad is writing to Washington to try to get more news. Of course, he has a great deal of influence, being a lawyer with a good many friends in Washington, and he may be able to find out something. I don't know."
"Here come Mollie and Amy," said Betty, glancing through the window. "I guess," she added thoughtfully, "Amy probably feels pretty bad too."