"I wish you'd tell me," she added, looking at them wistfully, "when it bothers you, an' I'll jest bottle it all up again twice as tight as 'twas before."
"Oh, please," cried Amy, taking one of the work-worn hands and pressing it earnestly between her own warm ones. "We just feel honored to think that you trust us enough and like us enough to tell us these things. If you didn't we'd be miserable!"
"Indeed we should," added Betty fervently.
Mrs. Sanderson looked from one of the flushed earnest faces to the other, and her eyes filled slowly with tears.
"I never thought," she said tremulously, "that there were girls like you in the world."
Several days later Mrs. Watson, their chaperone, and the head of the Hostess House, called the girls to her for a consultation, and, wondering what new thing was in store for them, they responded to the call.
The boys had been gone for a week, time enough to get accustomed—a little—to the feeling of loss that had so oppressed them during the first few days.
And now there were rumors of new soldiers arriving at the camp and of more than enough work for the girls at the Hostess House to keep their minds continually occupied.
And, in fact, it was to discuss that very situation that Mrs. Watson had called them to her this morning.
"Well, girls," she said when they had seated themselves in characteristic attitudes about the room, "we've had a little breathing spell now, just enough time to rest up before the next onslaught."