tlessly.

"That's so," she said. "You never did find out whether or not Joe Barnes
had been accepted. Tell me about it. I'd welcome a diversion--a cyclone
or a tidal wave or anything--if it would only get my mind off our
troubles."

"I'll guarantee it would be effective," returned Betty absently, as she
took up the closely written pages. "It would be like burning yourself to
make you forget you have a toothache."

There was silence for a long while, broken only by the sound of the
waves breaking on the shore and the crackling of the paper as Betty
turned page after page.

It was a long letter, filled with youthful enthusiasm. In it the youth
spoke his pleasure in meeting her and his hope that she would not only
answer this letter but would allow him to write to her often.

But over and above all the great fact stood out that he had been
accepted! The doctors had looked him over and declared him fit in every
respect to serve his country.

As Betty read the last glowing sentence a sob broke from her and she
buried her head in her arms. Mollie went over to her quickly.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously, putting an arm about the Little
Captain. "You haven't had bad news too, have you, Betty?"

"N-no," sobbed Betty, raising eyes that were shining through her tears.
"I just love them so--all those splendid boys that are so crazy to give
their lives for their country, that my heart gets too full sometimes,
that's all."

"Then I take it that Joe Barnes has been accepted," Mollie rather stated
than asked.

"Yes," said Betty, feeling for a handkerchief. "And he is simply wild
with joy, Mollie," she added, while the color flooded her face. "The
Germans simply can't last long with that spirit against them. It makes
our boys indomitable!"

CHAPTER XIX

BETTY CONFESSES

Betty woke up the next morning with a sense of deadly depression
weighing her down. For a few moments she lay staring up at the ceiling
trying to collect her thoughts. Then the events of the day before came
back to her and she frowned unhappily.

The whereabouts of poor little Dodo and Paul was still a mystery, and
Will Ford, whom she had come to regard almost as a brother, was terribly
wounded somewhere in France. She probably would never see him again.

And there was Allen too, to worry about every minute of the day and
night. She had not heard from him in--oh, ages. Yes, it must be every
bit of two weeks since she had read his last lett