CHAPTER XVIII

AFTER THE BOYS LEFT

“Well—­it’s—­over,” sighed Grace, as they made their way slowly down the platform to where the machine stood waiting.  “I feel as though I’d like to go home and cry for a week without stopping.”

“Favorite indoor sport,” retorted Mollie, wiping her own eyes impatiently.  “I’m sure the boys would admire us for doing that.”

“I don’t think they’d admire us very much if they could see us now,” sighed Amy, dabbing a rather red nose with a generous portion of talcum powder.  “Crying is so terribly damaging to my particular style of beauty!  Every time I do it I vow I never will again—­”

“And then the boys do foolish things like going away to be shot,” finished Mollie, “and—­poof, go all our good resolutions.”

“But you girls are all Helen of Troys compared to me when I cry,” said Grace, her tear-dimmed eyes fixed mournfully on space.  “Why, after I’ve had a good cry I cover up all the mirrors in the house for a couple of days afterward.”

“I guess,” sighed Betty, “that just about everybody we know went away on that train this morning.  Oh, girls, I feel as though somebody were dead.”

“Well, I’d rather be, than look like this,” said Grace, eyeing her somewhat disheveled reflection in the tiny mirror somberly.

“Oh, you’re not quite as bad as that, Gracie,” Betty comforted her, laughing a little despite the ache at her heart.  “A little cold water and a curling iron will work wonders—­”

“Betty,” cried Grace, pausing in the act of applying still more powder to the tip of her nose and regarding the Little Captain with a horrified expression, “why drag the mention of such unromantic things into the open—­”

“Goodness, nothing could be much more unromantic than straight hair and red noses,” broke in Mollie practically.  “It’s lucky the boys don’t do this every day—­I’d be a wreck in a week!”

“Well, at least you’d be wrecked in a good cause,” said Betty, half wistfully, half whimsically.

“Goodness, you’ll make me cry again after I’ve just powdered my nose,” cried Grace in alarm, and the foolishness of it made them all laugh.

“You’re a goose, Gracie,” Mollie commented.  “But I love you, just the same.  Now,” she added, “who’s going to take the wheel while I do my duty with the powder puff?  I need both hands you know—­”

“Heavens, don’t let Amy do it,” cried Grace, in still greater alarm.  “She doesn’t know a thing about it.  Mollie, what are you doing?”

“You put the powder on then,” Mollie suggested, and Amy reached for the vanity case.  “If you can’t drive you can at least do that much.  Amy! you’re getting it in my eyes.  Do be careful!”

“Mollie Billette, if you dare use that word again,” cried Amy, her eyes twinkling, “I’ll blind you with powder—­just for spite!”

The girls chuckled, and Mollie, figuratively speaking, threw up her hands.