On their return from the station after seeing the boys entrain they had found a letter from their friend, Mrs. Barton Ross, of their home town of Deepdale, head of the Young Women’s Christian Association, under whose auspices the Hostess House at Camp Liberty was run.  In this letter Mrs. Ross had said that she had sent to the girls a box of books for which they had sent a request—­books all of which one boy or another had asked for, and which the regular Camp library had not been able to supply.

The books had now come, Mollie had learned on a visit to the postoffice, and as it was a heavy package she had got out the car and with the other girls had run down for it.

As the car rolled up to the curb and stopped once more before the Hostess House, Betty waved her hand to an upper window.

“There’s Mrs. Sanderson,” she explained as they got out of the automobile.  “She looks kind of pathetic sitting up there all alone.”

“She always looks pathetic to me,” sighed Amy, winding an arm about the Little Captain as they ascended the steps.  “But everybody looks sadder and more forlorn than usual the past few days.”

“Well, we can’t be sad and forlorn any longer,” said Betty determinedly.  “We came here to cheer people up, you know, and how we’re going to do it by being doleful ourselves, I don’t know.  So, in the words of the vulgar—­’here goes.’  How’s that?”

“That” was a rather forced and pitiful little smile, but it brought an answering one from Amy and another warm hug.

“You’re just wonderful, Betty!” she said lovingly, “and we’ll do just whatever you say.  If you want us to smile, we’ll smile, that’s all.  Of course, we have tried, but we’ll try still harder.”

Betty hugged back, and they went up the stairs toward the old familiar room, feeling better and more cheerful for their renewed good resolutions.

For a while the girls were busy unpacking the books and putting them in place.  Then Betty announced her intention of calling on Mrs. Sanderson.

“I can’t bear to think of her in there by the window all alone,” she said.  “It has been awfully hard for her to watch all those boys going away, knowing that her Willie wasn’t among them.  I might be able to comfort her a little.”

“Let me go too,” begged Amy, and arm in arm the two girls went on their little mission of kindness.

They knocked on the door, but, receiving no answer, pushed it open and stepped inside the room.  The old lady was sitting in exactly the same position as when Betty had seen her from the car, almost an hour before.

She glanced up, a little startled when they spoke to her, and half rose to her feet.  She looked dazed and very old and drawn.  With a little cry of compassion, Betty ran over to her and gently forced her back into her chair.

“Did we startle you?” she asked anxiously.  “We knocked, but you didn’t answer, and we came right in.  I’m sorry—­”