'll get dressed just as fast as I can and come right over--Yes,
yes, in about five minutes."

Mechanically Betty replaced the receiver on the hook and hurried back
into her room. Then swiftly she began to dress.

Will! Dear old Will was wounded! That had been about all she had been
able to gather from Grace's sobbing message--but that was enough. He was
the first of the boys to fall out there in the trenches, and who knew
but what Allen might be the next!

And here only yesterday they had been so happy, as happy as they could
be with that shadow always hanging over them. This was the day, too--the
incongruous thought struck Betty as she hastily pulled on her
clothing--the day they had set for their trip to Bluff Point. Well, of
course, it was all off now. Who wanted to go anyway?

These thoughts and many more raced through Betty's head as she put the
finishing touches to her toilet and crushed a garden hat on her pretty
soft hair. She was a very attractive picture as she ran down the stairs,
but she neither knew it nor cared.

"Why, Betty dear, what is the meaning of the hat?" her mother inquired,
smiling as her young daughter burst into the dining room. "You don't
need it to eat breakfast in, you know. Who called on the 'phone?"

"I'm not going to eat breakfast, at least not right away. But there, of
course, you don't know," answering her mother's look of surprise. "Grace
called up and, oh, Mother, poor Will has been wounded! I don't want to
c-cry," her chin quivered and she turned away for a moment to get
control of the lump in her throat.

"I know, dear," said her mother, putting an understanding arm about her,
"and so I'm not going to offer very much sympathy--just now. Were you
going over to see Grace, poor child?"

Betty squeezed her mother's hand gratefully and nodded.

"I'll be back in a little while," she said finally, getting the better
of that annoying lump. "I just want to find out all about it and give
Grace my sympathy."

And the Little Captain found poor Grace in need of all the sympathy she
could possibly give her. She was sitting in the darkest corner of the
library, all crumpled up in a big chair, her eyes red with weeping and a
damp ball of handkerchief clutched tightly in one hand.

At sight of Betty running toward her, she began to sob again, the tears
running down her face unnoticed.

"Betty, Betty, I knew you'd come," she cried, as Betty knelt beside her
and put two loving arms about