"Have sunk another of our ships," said Betty, her lips set in a
straight line. "And--and they think the loss will be heavy. Oh,
girls, I can't read it--it's too horrible!"

She flung down the paper, but Mollie snatched it almost before it
reached the step. Then with eyebrows drawn together, and twin spots
of red flaming in either cheek, she read the account of the disaster
from beginning to end.

"There," she said at last, flinging down the paper and glaring about
her as though the girls themselves were at fault. "Now you see what
we're knitting sweaters for, and--and--everything! Oh, if I could
just put on a uniform, and take up a gun and--and--go after those--
those awful Huns!"

"Goodness, if you looked like that," commented Grace, "you wouldn't
have to fire a shot. They'd all drop dead just from fright."

"So much the better," said Mollie, beginning to knit again
ferociously. "It would be a shame to waste good ammunition on them."

"I wonder," said Betty thoughtfully, her eyes on the far-off horizon,
"what the boys are going to do. They've seemed so mysterious lately,
and the minute you begin to question them about enlisting, they
change the subject."

"Yes, and it's made me desperate," cried Mollie, the tempestuous,
flinging down the unfortunate sweater once more. "I know what I'd do
if I were a man, and Betty and all the rest of us girls! But either