Betty. "Roy looked solemn, Grace looked surprised, Amy looked
exalted, and Allen was thoughtful, while Frank looked as though--
well, as though he were seeing visions."

"All I have to do is turn my head to see visions," Frank returned
gallantly, suiting the action to the word. "Gee, I never saw a crowd
of prettier girls."

"Hey, you're going to get an extra biscuit for that," put in Roy,
raising himself on his elbow and looking alarmed. "Just because
you're a better flatterer than I am--"

"Oh, hush, hush," protested Betty, showing all her dimples--Allen was
watching, so we have his authority for it. "You boys can never get to
the point, unless we happen to be talking of something to eat. Allen,
what were they talking about?"

Allen roused himself from the happy reverie into which Betty's
dimples had thrown him, and responded good-naturedly. Allen was
invariably good-natured.

"We were talking about some of the things we may be up against, when
we find ourselves in the trenches, face to face with the enemy," he
said. "Also we were saying that these sweaters, and mufflers and
socks you are knitting, will come in mighty handy over there."

A shadow crossed Betty's bright face, and she leaned forward to pick
up the discarded paper she had thrown upon the porch.

"'The enemy attacked in force our lines south of Cambrai,'" she read,