"What is the matter?" she repeated as they moved up to make room for
her on the veranda steps. "I'm more afraid than ever to leave you
alone these days when every dropped stitch means a quarrel. Give it
to me, Mollie, I'll pick it up for you."

With a sigh, Mollie relinquished the tiresome sweater and Betty went
to work at it with a skill born of long practice.

"There you are," she announced triumphantly, after an interval during
which the girls had watched with eager eyes and bated breath. "That
was a mean one. Thought it was going to make me rip out the whole
row--but I showed it! Now, please, don't anybody drop any more. I
must finish that pair of socks to-day."

"Oh, dear," sighed Amy resignedly. "Then our last hope is gone."

"Goodness, that sounds doleful," chuckled Betty, stretching her arms
above her head and reveling in the brilliant sunshine. "What
particular thing seems to be the matter now, Amy? Has Will been
misbehaving?"

Amy flushed vividly and bent closer over her work.

"How could he be when he's been in town for over a week?" she
retorted with unusual spirit. "It's just that nobody will read the
paper, and I'm just dying to hear the news. I want to keep up with
the times."

"Well, if that's all," said the Little Captain, sitting up with
alacrity, "I'm always willing to oblige. Mollie, you're sitting on