HIS THREE SWEETHEARTS
Grace's eyes filled with tears of sheer weakness, but she brushed them
away impatiently. Then she read, brokenly at first, then radiantly as
the marvelous truth came home to her.
"'Poor old Will certainly did have a narrow
escape,'" she read, "'but thanks to the gods he is
out of danger now. I went to see him
yesterday--got leave for the first time in
weeks--and he was looking mighty chipper. No
wonder, with the good looking nurse he had.'"
Amy gave a little involuntary sound and then blushed scarlet when the
girls looked at her.
"Never mind!" cried the joy incarnate that was Betty, putting an arm
about her. "Just wait till you hear what he says later on. Go on,
Gracie."
"'But do you know what that old boy said when I
happened to comment upon the excellent nursing he
must have had?'" Grace read on, while Amy tried
hard to look unconcerned. "'He reached under his
pillow and pulled out three pictures. "Those are
my three girls," he said, and I swear there was
moisture in his eyes. "You probably won't believe
me, old man, but there isn't a girl or woman over
here who could make me look twice at her unless
she resembles one of those," and he pointed to the
photographs I still held.
"'And when I opened them there was Mrs. Ford's
face smiling up at me as sweet as life, and Grace
with her best Gibson Girl expression--you can tell
her from me that that is some picture of her--And
who do you think the third was?'"
Grace paused again and looked over slyly at Amy, who turned away her
face, only just showing the tip of one furiously blushing ear.
"'It was Amy Blackford,'" Grace read on, "'And it
was one fine picture of her too. Gosh, I didn't
know it was as serious as all that, did you,
little girl? But then the war does make a fellow
feel about ten years older than he really is, and
the girls at home suddenly seem the most desirable
and necessary things on earth. And Amy did look so
sweet and comfy and altogether like home that I
couldn't blame the old chap.
"'Then I pulled out the picture of the most
beautiful girl in the world and we talked about
home and--other things, you know--until we were
ready to weep on each other's shoulders and the
handsome nurse put me out.
"'Do you know what I'm going to do the first
minute I reach good old U. S. A. territory, Betty
de--'"
But the sentence was never finished, for with a quick movement, Betty
snatched the letter away and hugged it to her breast while her face
flamed.
"That's all you get," she cried, "the rest belongs to me. Oh, girls, did
you ever hear such wonderful news? Allen strong and well and Will
recovering splendidly, and both of them so sweet and loyal. Oh, I could
kiss that beautiful red-haired angel who brought all this happiness to
us. Where is he? Has he gone back again?"
"Yes, he has, and what do we care!" cried Grace wildly, her face
radiant. "Amy, you little goose, you're not crying are you? Don't you
know there isn't a thing in the world to cry about? Come on--laugh, you
sweet, comfy, little thing. Don't you know that Will is getting better
and keeps our pictures under his pillow? That darling, wonderful,
adorable boy. Great heavens!" She stopped suddenly and a dismayed
expression crept over her face. "Excuse me, please," and she was racing
up the stairs, leaving the girls to look after her, bewildered.
"What in the world," began Betty, when Amy lifted a face, shining
radiantly through her tears.
"Don't you know?" she said with an understanding born of her wonderful
happiness. "Grace has gone to tell her mother. You really can't blame
her for being in a hurry."
A few minutes later Grace called down to Amy.
"Come on up, Honey," she commanded. "Mother wants to speak to you."
After Amy had left the room, Mollie and Betty looked at each other
questioningly.
"I wonder if Mrs. Ford is going to welcome Amy into the family,"
chuckled Mollie.
"I hardly think so, since there isn't anything definitely settled yet,"
said Betty absently. She was thinking of Allen and what he had said in
the part of his letter she would not let Grace read. Her eyes shone
mistily and her heart sang. Allen, her Allen, was safe, and, oh, those
wonderful things he had said!
"It must be nice to be as happy as they are," Mollie said, with a little
sigh, and with a start Betty came out of her preoccupation.
"Oh, Mollie, dear, I--I forgot," she confessed, putting an arm about her
chum. "I was so selfishly taken up with my own happiness that I didn't
think!"
"It isn't your fault," said Mollie, smiling bravely. "You just can't be
happy enough to suit me. You know that, don't you, Betty?"
"Of course I do, you perfect brick!" said Betty, hugging her fondly.
"But we can't any of us be really happy until we know you are. But even
that is coming out all right, I'm sure of it," she finished gayly, her
old optimism fully restored.
Mollie started to shake her head moodily, thought better of it, and
smiled instead.
"I won't be a death's head at the feast," she told herself savagely. "I
suppose I'm awfully wicked, but now that they are all so happy, it makes
me feel dreadfully lonesome. I'm glad from my very heart for them, of
course. But, oh, Paul! Oh, little Dodo! If you will only come back to
Mollie, she will never go away from you again, never, never!"
Dinner that night for the other girls was a joyful occasion. The girls
dressed up in their prettiest and best, Mrs. Ford and Betty cooked a
most appetizing supper, and if it had not been for the one dark cloud
still hanging over them, the evening that followed would have been the
happiest they had ever spent.
Mollie kept her promise to herself and entered into the gayety with the
best of them, and no one--except Betty, perhaps--realized how much she
was suffering.
However, when the lights were out that night and everybody but herself
was asleep, Mollie's brave barrier broke down and she sobbed miserably
into her pillow.
"I want to go home!" she cried, heart brokenly. "I can't keep this up
day after day! I can't! If I don't hear some good news soon, I'll die--I
know I shall."
Only the sound of the waves pounding angrily on the shore and the
shrilling of a rapidly rising wind answered her, and after a while she
sank into a troubled, uneasy sleep.
And how could she know as she lay there, restlessly tossing from side to
side and muttering incoherently to herself, that the wind and waves were
actually sending her an answer which, in her wildest moments, she could
never have imagined?
Toward morning something, she could not tell what, roused Betty and she
sat up suddenly in bed, every nerve taut, every sense alert.
The wind had increased in fury while they slept, till now it was howling
fiercely about the house, rattling the windows and whistling shrilly
through the cracks, which together with the pounding of the waves, made
an almost deafening uproar.
And the rain! It came down in sheeting torrents and was driven by the
rushing wind in maddened gusts against the window panes until it seemed
they must give beneath the strain.
"What a storm!" cried Betty, pressing her hands against her ears to keep
out the noise of it. "I wonder if that was what wakened me."
Then, becoming fully awake, she suddenly realized that she was very
uncomfortable, and, looking down, discovered that the bed spread was
wet.
"Mercy, it's raining in all over us!" she tried aloud, and, springing
out of bed, ran over to the window and closed it with a bang. When she
came back she found Grace sitting up in bed and staring at her.
"For goodness sake, what's happening?" asked the latter sleepily: "Is it
the end of the world?"
"Search me," returned Betty, inelegantly. She had to almost scream to
make herself heard above the noise of the storm. Furthermore, her feet
were wet and her nightgown was wet, which did not serve to lift her
spirits. In fact, she was feeling decidedly grumpy. "The only thing I do
know," she shouted, "is that I'm nearly drowned."
"Don't you know that getting drowned at night is strictly forbidden?"
Grace began severely, but was promptly smothered by an avenging pillow.
"Why don't you get in bed?" she asked, when she had succeeded in
disentangling herself. Betty was sitting disconsolately on the dry side
of the bed, which happened to be that occupied by Grace.
"If you want to know, just feel the covers," Betty answered. "Next time
I'm going to make you sleep on the side near the window. Think I'll go
in and see if Mollie and Amy are drowned yet," she added, starting for
the door. "Goodness, but this is a heavy storm!"
However, when she started to close the window in the next room she
noticed to her surprise that the rain had slackened, had almost stopped.
But not so the wind. If anything, it had increased in fury.
She was about to turn back and tiptoe out of the room, hoping that she
had not roused the girls, when her eye was caught and held by a vivid
flash of red somewhere out to sea.
Startled, she stood stock still, staring out in the direction from which
that light had come. It seemed weird, eery--that lonesome light sending
its signal out into the storm-whipped darkness. For that it was a
signal, she did not for a minute doubt.
Then it came again--green this time--a light that shot up rocketlike
toward the sky, then, bursting, dived to instant annihilation in the
turbulant water.
Another followed, and another, and then the truth came home to Betty.
Somewhere out there In that foaming sea a ship had met with disaster,
perhaps at this moment was sinking and her crew, were sending out
desperate appeals for aid.
For a moment she felt almost sick with pity and excitement. Then she
controlled herself and ran over to wake the girls.
"Mollie! Amy!" she cried, her voice shrill even above the shrieking of
the wind. "Wake up, wake up! Oh, why don't you wake up?" as the girls
opened sleep-laden eyes and stared at her stupidly.
"Wh-what's the matter," stammered Mollie, suddenly sensing almost
hysterical excitement in Betty's voice and realizing that something
terrible had occurred.
"Is anybody sick?" queried Amy almost fretfully, for she had been
enjoying the first good sleep she had had in weeks.
"No. But somebody may be if we don't hurry up," cried Betty, wild with
impatience. "Don't lie there asking foolish questions when people may be
dying."
"Dying," they echoed, still staring at her stupidly.
"There's a wrecked ship out there," Betty explained, her words stumbling
over each other as she tried to make the girls understand. "They are
sending up signals for help, and if we don't get it for them right away
it may be too late. Oh, girls, for all we know, it may be too late now!"
Mollie and Amy, at last fully awake and almost as excited as Betty
herself, sprang out of bed and rushed to the window to see for
themselves the signals the distressed vessel was sending up.