“But that’s silly,” objected Mollie.  “As if we wouldn’t think a good deal more of them when they get over there.”

“Distance lends enchantment?” queried Grace, with lifted eyebrows.

“Goose,” commented Mollie.

“Goodness,” cried Grace plaintively, “that’s the second time I’ve been called a goose in the last five minutes.  Pretty soon I’ll be a whole flock of them!”

The girls laughed, and Mollie said with aggravating condescension: 

“It’s hard sometimes to tell the truth, Grace dear, but we only do it for your own good.  That’s what friendship is for, you know.”

“Then give me enemies!” cried Grace.  “I don’t care how many faults I have if people just won’t tell me about them.”

“Which reminds me of something,” said Mollie with a chuckle.

“Well, don’t tell us about it,” said Grace hastily.  “I’m trying hard to love you, Mollie, but I can’t stand everything—­”

“Oh, but it’s a joke on me this time,” Mollie reassured her, and Grace sat back with a sigh of relief.

“It happened while we were at Pine Island,” Mollie continued with a chuckle.  “I was sitting in the living room playing the piano—­”

“Or trying to?” interrupted Grace.

“Or trying to,” agreed Mollie with perfect good-nature.  “You know my repertoire consists of two pieces, and I was humming one of them as I played.

“Frank and Roy were sitting on the steps of the porch outside and I heard Frank say to Roy very earnestly: 

“’Do you know, I think Mollie would have a wonderful voice if she would only have it cultivated.’”

“Goodness, I thought—­” began Grace, but the Little Captain very hastily pinched her into silence.

“Evidently they thought I couldn’t hear them,” Mollie continued.  “But they were mistaken, for I heard Roy answer pityingly, ’Say, old man, I’ve heard of love being blind before, but here’s a case where the poor little god is deaf.’”

“Mollie,” cried Amy, shocked, while the others laughed merrily, “what did Frank say?  Did he stand for that?”

“Most decidedly not,” chuckled Mollie.  “The last I saw of them, Frank was leaping a fence, hanging on to Roy’s coat tails.  It was awfully funny.  I think I laughed for an hour afterward,”

“It was a wonder there was enough of poor Roy left to come home,” giggled Betty.  “Frank isn’t what you might call gentle, when his temper is roused.”

“Oh, I believe I know when that was now!” exclaimed Grace, with sudden animation.  “It must have been that evening when I was baking biscuits and I looked out of the window and saw Roy.  He looked like a tramp, hair all disheveled and face as red as a beat.

“I called to him and asked him if he’d been in a fight or something, and he just got redder than ever and backed off into the woods.

“I concluded he’d gone suddenly and violently insane, and as the aroma of nearly burned biscuits filled the air I promptly forgot all about him.”