“That would be adding insult to injury,” Betty chuckled.  “Then they never would forgive us.”

“I just hate jealous people, anyway,” added Grace, diving into her pocket and bringing forth a luscious bonbon which Mollie eyed covetously.  “I think it’s so ridiculous and narrow, don’t you?”

“I think it’s a good deal more ridiculous and narrow,” grumbled Mollie, still hungrily eyeing the rapidly disappearing chocolate, “to keep all the candies to yourself.”

“Oh, goodness!  Take one,” returned Grace, offering a capacious pocket.  “I didn’t know you were such a shy and shrinking little violet, Mollie.  You usually are perfectly capable of helping yourself.”

“Well, not out of your fuzzy old pocket,” Mollie retorted ungraciously.  “Why didn’t you bring the box along?”

Grace eyed her pityingly.

“Wouldn’t I look nice,” she demanded, “lugging a candy box along to a bayonet drill?”

“I think you’d probably be exceedingly popular,” Betty broke in, with a chuckle.  “You’d have all the boys around you in earnest.”

“And then what would Roy say?” teased Amy.  “He’d never speak to poor Grace again.”

“Poor Grace, indeed!” sniffed the owner of the name scornfully.  “I’d just like to have anybody try to ‘poor Grace’ me!  He’d never do it a second time.”

“Goodness, don’t look so ferocious, Gracie,” Mollie soothed her.  “Some one give her another candy—­do.”

“I’m not a cripple,” Grace retorted, evidently in a belligerent mood.  “I’ve always been quite able to help myself.”

“So we’ve noticed,” murmured Mollie irrepressibly.

“Will you two please listen to reason?” queried Betty, in her primmest tones.

“Yes, grandma,” replied Mollie soberly—­which was so ridiculous that even Betty dimpled.  “What have we done now?”

“Nothing.  It’s what you may do,” Betty answered, adding, in an explanatory tone:  “You see, we are just about to enter the sacred precincts of the drill ground, and it is fitting that we do so with an air of propriety and sobriety.”

“Goodness, is she insulting us?” cried Mollie, in mock indignation.  “I’ll have you know, Miss Nelson, that I, for one, am not intoxicated and, what is more, never expect to be.”

“Goodness! that is a relief,” sighed Grace, who had been hanging breathlessly on her words.  “I thought you were going to say ’I am not drunk, but soon shall be,’ or words to that effect—­”

“But will you listen?” cried Betty despairingly.  “I’ve got about as much chance of saying anything sensible—­”

“As the man in the moon,” finished Grace innocently, then, meeting Betty’s outraged eye, added hastily:  “Oh, wasn’t that what you were going to say?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Betty was beginning, when Mollie, for the first time in her life played the part of peacemaker.

“Go ahead, honey,” she interrupted soothingly.  “We’re all ears.”