Amy gave a plaintive little moan, and her two hands gripped tighter in her lap.

“All right,” she said.  “I’m glad I made my will a couple of days ago.”

Grace turned an interested and speculative eye upon her.

“Oh, you did,” she remarked, adding in a wheedling tone, “What did you leave me, dear?  You know I always was your best friend.”

“Goodness, I wonder who’s my worst then,” retorted Amy, with an unexpected flash of humor.

“Oof, that was a bad one, Gracie,” Betty laughed, glad of any diversion to keep the vision of those splendid, marching boys in the background as long as possible.

Unconsciously the girls were sparring for time.  They knew that once they let themselves think, that once they let themselves realize the full significance, the utter finality of this thing that was about to happen, it would be hard for them to smile.  And they so wanted to smile!

They had been so glad, so proud when the boys had volunteered among the very first.  Down in their hearts they had known that that was the only thing they could have done.

And the thought of their going away had seemed so far in the future that, as yet, it need not worry them.  Blinded by their own passionate patriotism, they had seen all of the glory of war and none of its horror.

And now, in order to send the boys away with the thought of bright faces and encouraging smiles to cheer them on their long, grim journey, the girls joked and laughed, carefully avoiding the subject that was uppermost in their minds.

“Oh, well, that’s all a person can expect in this world,” Grace had answered resignedly, in reply to Amy’s thrust.  “Just be kind and loving and thoughtful of other people’s comfort, and you’re sure to be sat upon—­”

“Goodness, she doesn’t think anything of herself, does she?” Mollie flung back over her shoulder.  “Now see what you made me do!” the exclamation was fairly jerked from her as the car lurched into a deep rut at the side of the road, skidded for a minute, seemingly uncertain whether to fling them out on the bank or continue its way, then bumped up on the road again and continued its flight.

“Oh, Mollie, do be—­” Amy began, but a sudden grim straightening of Mollie’s back warned her in time and with a gasp she choked back the forbidden word.

“Goodness, isn’t she well trained?” laughed Betty, as Mollie bent once more over the wheel.

“Who wouldn’t be,” protested Amy plaintively, “if a cannibal should come and hang an axe over his head—?”

“Is she calling me names?” demanded Mollie ferociously, half turning in her seat.  “If she is, please tell her to say it to my face.”

“Well, I would if I could,” cried poor Amy desperately.  “But I’d have to be an acrobat—­or an idiot—­”

“The last ought to be easy,” drawled Grace, then hastily offered her candy.  “I didn’t mean it, Amy dear,” she retracted humbly.  “Really I didn’t.”