"Have you seen any of the boys lately?" she asked, after an interval of
deep concentration. "We've been kept so busy here at the Hostess House
lately with these other boys that our boys might as well be dead and
buried for all I've seen of them."
"Who's talking about being dead and buried?" demanded a third voice, and
they turned to see Grace in the doorway with the inevitable candy box
under her arm.
"Can't you choose a more cheerful subject?" she added, coming in and
seating herself luxuriously in a big chair. "There's enough of that being
done anyway--"
"You talk as if getting dead and buried were some sort of new indoor
sport," interrupted Mollie, glad to have this old familiar enemy to spar
with.
"Goodness, there's no more sport in anything," returned Grace,
disconsolately. "I don't see why any old swell-headed German--"
"Grace!" exclaimed Betty, but with twinkling eyes. "What language!"
"Oh, I could do lots better than that," returned Grace tranquilly, "if I
weren't in polite society."
"You flatter us," murmured Mollie.
"I know it," Grace retorted, still calmly. "Anyway, I was remarking that I
didn't see why any swell-headed old German was allowed to take the world
by the ears and turn it upside down--"
"Gee, who's allowing him?" cried a masculine voice from the door, and the
girls turned with a chorus of greetings to welcome Roy.
"We were just saying we thought you were dead," remarked Mollie somberly,
never lifting her eyes from the sweater as he seated himself beside her.
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