Then, just as the girls thought they must have missed “their own particular four” and were bracing themselves to stand the disappointment, they saw them!

They were together, the four of them, splendid specimens of young manhood with their cropped heads and service hats and packs slung over their backs.

“Allen,” cried Betty impulsively, and he turned as though shot, a deep flush staining his face.

They came over then, those four, to the girls they were leaving indefinitely—­perhaps forever.  Their young faces were very grave, their jaws grim and set, and the girls realized suddenly that these were not the boys who had so joyously left Deepdale in the service of their country.  These were no longer careless, irresponsible boys, but men with a great and glorious duty to perform, and their hearts thrilled with a new pride.

And while eloquent things were being said, not only with lips, but with eyes and clasping hands, Allen bent nearer to Betty’s little, upturned face.

[Illustration:  “It may be A long time, but—­I’m coming back.” The Outdoor Girls at the Hostess House. page 145]

“It may be a long, long time, little girl,” he whispered, gravely, “but—­I’m coming back.  And, Betty, I have your picture—­that little snapshot you gave me, the laughing one, you remember?”

Betty nodded, smiling bravely while she choked back something deep down in her throat.

“And—­” his eyes had grown very wistful, “and—­I’m counting on some letters from you, Betty?”

“Oh, Allen,” she cried breathlessly, “I’ll write you all the time, dear, every day—­”

But he had caught both her hands in his and was drawing her irresistibly toward him.

“‘Dear,’” he was repeating dizzily, incredulously.  “Did you call me that, Betty?  Did you say ’dear’?”

“Y-yes,” she nodded, breathless, a little frightened, yet adorably brave.  Why, this was Allen, and he was going away!  He might be killed over there!  She might never see him again!  “And,” she added, looking up into his eyes with a shy recklessness, “I—­I’d say it again, Allen, if you asked me—­”

With a little cry he drew her to him, and for one unbelievable, breathless second his lips rested on hers.

“Betty, Betty, I love you,” he whispered unsteadily.  “I’ll be dreaming of you always.  Whatever I do ‘over there’ will be because of you—­” The whistle shrieked a rude warning and his hands tightened on hers.  They were both trembling a little.

“Good-bye,” he whispered hoarsely.  “I—­love—­you—­” then he tore himself away, swinging up the steps and into the car.

The train began to move amid a great storm of cheering and waving of service hats.  Betty saw it all dimly, through a mist of tears.  She pressed her hand against her lips to still their trembling.

“Good-bye, dear,” she murmured brokenly.