"That's it," Mrs. Watson broke in quickly. "That's the spirit that has
made your work here such a wonderful success. You've done it--and whether
you will admit it or not, sometimes we've all been so tired at night we've
ached in every joint and muscle when we've crawled into bed--because you
loved to do it and because it was 'fun' to make people forget their
troubles, if only for a little while, and be happy.

"That's the secret, dear girls, and that's why the boys are all eager to
be assigned here. Also, the boys in the permanent garrison will sing your
praises to the few who have not already heard them, and of course we shall
have to live up to their opinion of us."

"Well, if just doing what we have been doing gives us such a reputation,"
said Amy soberly, "I guess it won't be hard to live up to it in the
future."

"Only," said Mrs. Watson warningly, "the work before us is apt to be very
much more trying and arduous than any we have yet had. The camp is going
to be filled to overflowing, and of course that will mean entertaining
continually for us.

"We may even," she added thoughtfully, "have to quarter some of the
relatives and friends outside the camp in private homes, and, of course,
it will be up to us to find those homes."

"You mean we are to go canvassing--the way we did that Thanksgiving?"
queried Betty.

Mrs. Watson nodded, and Grace groaned.

"Well," said the latter, "I don't care. In fact, I rather like the idea if
only my feet will hold out."

"They look pretty durable," remarked Mollie gravely.

"But you don't know how they feel," retorted Grace, wiggling one foot in
its trim slipper experimentally. "Every time I get a pair of shoes I have
to get a size larger, and you know," argumentatively, "at that rate I'll
be a freak and you'll be able to charge admission for a look at me."

"Good," cried Mrs. Watson, laughing with the others. "I knew some one
would be clever enough to think up a new way of making money. Keep it
right up, Grace."

"Yes," said Betty drolly, "just think of the good you can do!"

CHAPTER XX

THE MOTORCYCLIST AGAIN

"What a glorious morning!" cried Betty, raising her face to the brilliant
sunshine. "I feel as if I could walk miles and miles and miles and never
stop."

"Well, it's lucky for you that you do," sighed Grace. "Perhaps you'd be
willing to walk a few for me."

"Oh, don't give up, Grade dear, before we've even started," cried Betty,
giving a little