What they said was enough to convince her she could not have struck upon a happier plan. Half an hour later, all talking at once and tremendously excited, they set out upon their tour of inspection.
Betty drew Grace a little apart from the others and they held a whispered consultation.
"What shall we do?" asked the former nervously. "Shall we send the orderly to hunt up the boys and bring them to us, or shall we just wait until we meet them by chance?"
"We might be here a week without doing that," said Grace, looking about at the scores of olive drab figures. "And in the meantime, they'd think it was very strange we didn't write to them."
"I suppose you're right," said Betty reluctantly, "but the other way would be so much more fun."
At this moment Mrs. Watson and the two other girls beckoned to them to hurry, and they had no chance for further conversation.
Then, just as Betty was about to broach the subject of the boys to
Mrs. Watson, the unexpected happened.
A khaki-clad figure, cutting across their path at a dead run, almost collided with them, paused to gasp an apology, stopped still and stared. It was Allen!
"Betty!" he cried, with eyes for only one of them. "Wh—what are you doing here?"
"Just what you're doing," said Betty with spirit, though she was blushing furiously. "Helping Uncle Sam!"