"Mollie, you wrong me!" cried Betty in dismay. "I was simply trying to
avoid a tragedy. But, if you're going to toss bones, anyway, you might as
well do it in comfort; so--"

"Oh, you goose," cried Mollie affectionately, and in this manner they
entered the den where Mrs. Watson was entertaining, or being entertained
by, the little old woman.

The girls immediately took possession of the latter and joyfully escorted
her to the upper floor to look over her new quarters.

"My, isn't this fine!" exclaimed the guest, her face lighting up happily.
"A beautiful big bed and three fine windows to see the soldier boys from.
Are you sure," she added, glancing from one to the other of the four eager
faces suspiciously, "that I'm not putting you out? Because, if I am--"

"Why of course you're not," Betty fibbed stoutly, adding, with a swift
change of subject: "But I'm sure now that you would like to rest. Look,"
she added, with quick solicitude, as she saw how white the old lady had
become, "your hands are trembling--"

"No, no, no," disclaimed the little old woman impatiently, as she gazed
with set face out of the window that faced upon the parade. "I'm a little
cold. And--that boy--" She pointed with quivering finger at a sturdy,
khaki-clad figure, swinging happily over the parade in the direction of
the mess-hall, "He--he reminded me--"

"Yes," they cried, crowding about her solicitously, while Betty pushed a
chair toward the window and gently forced her into it.