"We may even," she added thoughtfully, "have to quarter some of the
relatives and friends outside the camp in private homes, and, of course,
it will be up to us to find those homes."
"You mean we are to go canvassing--the way we did that Thanksgiving?"
queried Betty.
Mrs. Watson nodded, and Grace groaned.
"Well," said the latter, "I don't care. In fact, I rather like the idea if
only my feet will hold out."
"They look pretty durable," remarked Mollie gravely.
"But you don't know how they feel," retorted Grace, wiggling one foot in
its trim slipper experimentally. "Every time I get a pair of shoes I have
to get a size larger, and you know," argumentatively, "at that rate I'll
be a freak and you'll be able to charge admission for a look at me."
"Good," cried Mrs. Watson, laughing with the others. "I knew some one
would be clever enough to think up a new way of making money. Keep it
right up, Grace."
"Yes," said Betty drolly, "just think of the good you can do!"
CHAPTER XX
THE MOTORCYCLIST AGAIN
"What a glorious morning!" cried Betty, raising her face to the brilliant
sunshine. "I feel as if I could walk miles and miles and miles and never
stop."
"Well, it's lucky for you that you do," sighed Grace. "Perhaps you'd be
willing to walk a few for me."
"Oh, don't give up, Grade dear, before we've even started," cried Betty,
giving a little exuberant skip with the sheer joy of being alive.
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