The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point | Page 2

had been sent, much against their will, home to Deepdale for a rest that they sorely needed.
To-day they had gathered in Betty's house to discuss the rather hazy plans for their brief vacation. And Amy had simply voiced what was in the thoughts of all the girls. They were, undeniably and heartily, homesick for Camp Liberty and their work at the Hostess House.
"Lost?" Mollie repeated Amy's expression thoughtfully. "Yes, I guess that would pretty well describe the feeling I've had for the last few days. Sort of restless and aimless--wondering what to do next."
"Goodness!" cried Grace whimsically, stretching her arms above her head and smothering a yawn, "this is terrible, you know. If we don't look out, we'll be forgetting how to enjoy ourselves."
"That would be queer, wouldn't it?" agreed Mollie, with a chuckle as she started to resume her reading. "Especially for the Outdoor Girls, who used to know how to enjoy themselves remarkably well."
A brief silence followed, broken only by the rustle of paper as one of the girls turned a page. Then, so suddenly that Mollie jumped nervously and Grace almost upset a box of chocolates at her elbow, Amy threw down her book and sprang to her feet.
"I can't stand it another minute!" she exclaimed desperately. "Girls, I must get out and do something--this loafing is getting on my nerves."
"Goodness, the child's mad," declared Mollie, looking at her chum with a mixture of amusement and sympathy in her eyes. "What do you want to do, Amy, start a fight, or set the town on fire? Whatever it is, I'm for you, as Roy would say."
"Oh, I guess I must be crazy," said Amy, subsiding and seeming a little ashamed of her outburst. "Only, after so much band music and parades and bugle calls--everything in Deepdale seems so quiet."
"Well, if all you want is noise, we'll easily fix that," said Mollie briskly, running to the piano and gathering in Grace and Amy on the way. "Sing," she commanded, "and I'll make as much noise as I can on the piano."
Half laughing, half protesting, the girls obeyed while Mollie conscientiously made good her threat with the piano, and it was into this uproar that Betty Nelson stepped a moment later.
"Have mercy!" she screamed above the noise, both hands clapped over her ears while she laughed at them. "I thought they had turned the house into a lunatic asylum or something."
The music, if such it can be called, stopped so suddenly that Betty's last words rang out with absurd distinctness.
"Or something," Mollie mimicked, whirling around and catching the newcomer in a bear's embrace. "Come over to the couch, Betty Nelson, and explain yourself. Where have you been and why did you keep us waiting?"
Laughingly the Little Captain, as she was often called by the girls because of her talent for leadership, permitted herself to be dragged over to the couch by the impulsive Mollie, while Amy and Grace seated themselves on the arms.
"What would you?" protested Betty, looking from one accusing face to another. "I said I would meet you here at two-thirty, and it is only quarter past now."
"Only quarter past!" exclaimed Amy.
"Oh, is that all?" asked Mollie, in astonishment, adding, as Betty lifted her wrist watch for inspection: "Goodness, I thought we had been waiting ages."
"I'm glad you wanted to see me so much," chuckled the Little Captain, adding, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes: "I imagine you would have been still more impatient if you had known--" she paused wickedly and just looked at them.
"Don't tease, Betty! What is it?" they implored in chorus, fairly pouncing upon her, while Grace added, eagerly:
"Is it possible you have anything really interesting to tell us?"
"I shouldn't wonder if you would think so," Betty teased, adding quickly to forestall the outburst she saw was coming, "It really isn't anything at all--only--I met the postman on my way--"
"Betty!" they cried, unable to contain their impatience another moment. "You have letters! Letters from our soldier boys!"
"How did you guess it?" said Betty, her eyes dancing as she brought from a convenient pocket three--yes, three--fat letters, each containing the longed-for foreign postmark.
"How much will you give me?" teased Betty, holding the precious missives behind her back.
"Not one other word, Betty Nelson!" they cried, and after a merry but brief struggle the letters were seized and delivered to their rightful owners.
"Now I wonder," drawled Grace with a twinkle, as she hastily tore open her envelope, "who could possibly be writing to us from the other side?"
"Now I wonder," chuckled Betty, as she happily drew from the convenient pocket the last, but in her estimation decidedly not the least, fat letter and proceeded to devour its contents without delay.
And indeed the Outdoor Girls had little reason to wonder who their correspondents might be, for