nted to do something," said
Grace, getting up and shaking the sand from her dress. "I guess the
trouble is," she added, "that you don't know what you want."

"Yes I do," said Mollie, while the tears rose to her eyes and she shook
them away impatiently. "Only the one thing I want more than anything
else I can't get."

"Maybe you forget," said Grace, while her own voice trembled a little,
"that I'm very nearly in the same fix."

"No, we don't," cried Betty quickly. "But the only way we can hope to
bear the horrible things that are happening to us is to get busy at
something and try to occupy our minds."

"It's all very well for you to talk," Mollie retorted, in her nervous
state saying something she never would have thought of saying under
normal conditions, "but nothing terrible has happened to you yet. Wait
till it does. Then maybe it won't be so easy to get your mind off it."

The thoughtless speech stung, and Betty turned away to hide the hurt in
her eyes.

"Perhaps you're right," she said quietly. "Nothing very terrible has
happened to me yet, personally. But perhaps you forget that we girls
always share each other's troubles--"

But Mollie would not let her finish. She was down on her knees beside
her chum, penitent arms about her shoulders and was pouring out an
apology.

"I ought to be tarred and feathered," she cried breathlessly. "I don't
know what made me say such a thing, Honey."

"I know," said Betty gently, "and that's why it didn't go very
deep--what you said."

"You're a darling!" cried Mollie. She gave the Little Captain another
bear's hug, then sat down in the sand again with her arms clasped about
her knees. "It's this everlasting uncertainty and the feeling of
helplessness that gets on one's nerves so. I always did hate to wait for
anything--especially with my imagination."

"What's that got to do with it?" asked Amy, surprised.

"Why, it--the imagination, I mean--just goes running around in circles,
thinking up all the horrible things that might have happened until I
almost go crazy. If I only didn't have to think!"

"You never used to have any trouble that way," said Grace, with a weak
attempt at a joke that ended in dismal failure.

"Isn't that the boy with the mail?" asked Betty after a minute, as the
rumble of an antiquated vehicle and a masculine voice addressing in no
uncertain tones a pair of invisible mules came to their ears. "Perhaps
he's bringing good news to us. Come on,