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f the questions which perplexed her she would have liked to ask her mother, but in spite of their charming intimacy she could not bring herself to speak of them. She wished she had a friend with a lover, and could talk it all over with her, but although she had girl friends, none of them had lovers, and to have one herself made her feel much older than any of them. So Betty thought matters out for herself. Of course she liked Peter Junior--she had always liked him--and he was masterful--and she had always known she would marry a soldier--and one who had been wounded and been brave--that was the kind of a soldier to love. But she was more subdued than usual and sewed steadily on gingham aprons for Janey, making the buttonholes and binding them about the neck with contrasting stuff. "Anyway, I'm glad there is no picnic to-day. The boys may eat up the cookies, and I didn't get the cake made after all," she said to her mother, as she lingered a moment in the kitchen and looked out of the window at the pouring rain. But she did not see the rain; she saw again a gray-clad youth limping down the path between the lilacs and away along the grassy roadside. Well, what if she had said yes? It was all as it should be, according to her dreams, only--only--he had not allowed her to say what she had meant to say. She wished her mother had not happened to come just then before she could explain to Peter Junior; that it was "yes" only if when he came back he still wanted her and still loved her, and was sure he had not made a mistake about it. It was often so in books. Men went away, and when they returned, they found they no longer loved their sweethearts. If such a terrible thing should happen to her! Oh, dear! Or maybe he would be too honorable to say he no longer loved her, and would marry her in spite of it; and she would find out afterward, when it was too late, that he loved some one else; that would be very terrible, and they would be miserable all their lives. "I don't think I would let the boys eat up the cookies, dear; it may clear off by sundown, and be fine to-morrow, and they'll be all as glad as to go to-day. You make your cake." "But Martha's coming home to-morrow night, and I'd rather wait now until Saturday; that will be only one day longer, and it will be more fun with her along." Betty spoke brightly and tried to make herself feel that no momentous thing had happened. She hated the constraint of it. "By t
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