"I wonder," she said thoughtfully, "if the boys will fall in love with
those nice little French girls. They say they're awfully attractive."

"Amy, what ever put such a thing into your head?" cried Betty, while the
other two stared at her wide-eyed, not knowing whether to laugh or to be
indignant.

"Oh--nothing," she answered vaguely. "I was just wondering, that's all."

"Well," said Mollie, throwing back the covers preparatory to rising, "I
might suggest that the next time you feel it coming on, you might choose
something more comfortable, that's all. Wondering about such things might
become wearing. What's that?" she asked, as a sharp tap sounded on the
door.

"A caller, presumably," Grace remarked, as she slipped on a dressing gown
and approached the door.

The early morning caller proved to be, much to their surprise and delight,
no other than Mrs. Sanderson.

The old lady's eyes were unusually bright, and there was a flush on her
face.

"I haven't been able to sleep all night," she said, her hands fluttering
nervously in her lap. "Ever since Betty told me the boys were going this
morning I couldn't think of anything but just that one thing."

"I am sorry I told you then until this morning," cried Betty, reproaching
herself. "I didn't know it was going to make you feel bad."