er. For all she knew,
he might be worse off than poor Will.

"Oh, well," she sighed, and, turning on her side, looked out of the
window.

There was no relief there from the gloom of her thoughts, for the sky
was leaden and overcast, looking as if it, too, were mourning for the
troubles of the world, and the surf beat loud and threateningly on the
shore.

"Guess it's going to rain and make things still more cheerful," she
said, and at the sound Grace opened heavy eyes and turned over
restlessly.

"What are you mumbling about?" she asked sleepily, closing her eyes
again and sighing a little.

"Nothing but the weather," replied Betty, adding, with unusual
gentleness: "It's early, so you can turn over and get forty winks."

"What has happened to you?" asked Grace, opening her eyes again in
surprise at this unheard of advice. Then as the full force of her
trouble came home to her she turned over noisily and burrowed her head
into the pillow.

"Guess I will," she said in a muffled voice. "Don't any one dare wake me
up till they have some good news to tell me. I'm going to be another Rip
Van Winkle."

"Goodness, I hope it won't be that long before we have any good news,"
said Betty, trying to speak lightly. This would never do, she thought.
They simply had to find some way out of this terrible slough of
despondency before it mastered them completely.

"I'm going to get up," she announced briskly, jumping out of bed. "I've
got to find something to keep me busy till that good news of ours feels
like coming along. I'm getting absolutely morbid just sitting around and
thinking."

"Well, what is there to do?" asked Grace, rolling over and regarding her
listlessly.

"There's the house to be put in order," Betty pointed out, recovering a
little of her old spirits, now that she had decided on a definite plan
of action. "And we never have really unpacked our trunks because Mollie
has been undecided about staying."

"Yes, I know. And my clothes are a perfect wreck. I haven't a thing to
put on that doesn't look as if it had been through the wars," Grace
agreed. "Not that it really matters," she added indifferently.

"Of course it makes a difference," returned Betty sharply. She was
determined to rouse Grace out of her lethargy, no matter what means she
had to take. "Don't you know that when you are dressed neatly and
becomingly everything seems brighter and more hopeful? And, anyway," she
added, watching Grace out of t