"Who said 'supper'?" Mollie demanded hungrily. "Mrs. Ford," she added, as they started for the house, "won't you please make Betty make some biscuits?"
"But you make as good biscuits as I do," protested Betty.
"No, I don't, Darling," denied Mollie, putting an arm about her chum. "And, anyway," she added convincingly, "I can eat more when I don't have to make them!"
The girls were almost as pleased with the interior of the house as they had been with its surroundings. There were odd little passages and unexpected window seats such as Betty had dreamed of having in her own little home some day.
The thought brought back the picture of Allen as he had gone away, gallant, hopeful, brave—oh, so brave—and involuntarily she uttered a little sigh.
"Please don't do that," said Grace, as they entered the room they were to have together. "I'm trying my best not to be as gloomy as I feel. But if you begin to sigh, I'll just have to give up and spoil the party."
"I won't," said Betty, trying a little smile before the mirror and doing it pretty successfully. "I didn't mean to that time, only, I was—just thinking."
"I know," said Grace a little petulantly, as she pulled off her hat and threw it on the bed. "It seems to me that's all I'm ever doing—'just thinking.' If I could only really do something! Some time I'll scream aloud!"
"Well, don't you think we're all pretty much in the same fix?" suggested Betty gently, coming over and putting an arm about her.
"I suppose so," she answered, eyes fixed moodily on the floor. "Only the rest of you have only one to worry about, while I—" she stopped, flushed, and began letting down her thick hair. "If I could only cry!"