CHAPTER XV
THE FATEFUL DAY
The rain that had been pouring down steadily all night stopped about dawn. Betty raised herself on one elbow to look out the window and was greeted by a dazzling burst of sunshine, as the glorious disc dispersed the fog and took possession of the world.
"A good omen," she murmured to herself, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes. "Perhaps that's how the Huns will melt away before our boys!"
"What are you talking to yourself about?" queried Grace, irritably. "A person has a fine chance to sleep—"
"Sleep!" cried Betty, indignantly. "What on earth do you want to sleep for? Do you know what day this is?"
"Friday," Grace answered mechanically, then seeing the point of the question, sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.
"Oh, I—forgot," she stammered. "They're—they're going away, aren't they?"
"Yes; unless, they've changed their minds since last night," returned Betty dryly. "Oh, Grace, please don't look so sleepy. You—you annoy me," she finished hysterically.
"Well, I'm sorry," said Grace, trying comically to appear dignified. "But it really isn't so strange that I should look the way I feel—"