The others agreed to this, and they separated, each determined to find as many boarding places as possible for those relatives and friends who wished to be near their soldier boys.

At the end of the hour they met again, looking a little warm and tired, but immensely triumphant.

Grace was wildly excited.

“Yes, I found places,” she said, in answer to a question from Betty.  “But what do you think?—­I saw that motorcyclist.”

“You did!” came in a chorus from the other Outdoor Girls.

“Of course you mean the rascal who ran down poor Mrs. Sanderson,” came from Mollie.

“The same.  I was so startled I hardly knew what to do.  He was coming from a small hotel—­not a very nice place.”

“Maybe that is where he plays cards,” suggested Betty.

“As soon as he saw me he leaped on his motorcycle and left in a hurry, before I had a chance to say a word to him.”

“What a shame that you didn’t have a chance to have him arrested,” cried Amy.

The girls talked the matter over for several minutes.  As the motorcyclist was gone there seemed nothing they could do.

“But we’ll keep our eyes open for him,” declared Betty.

“I think this is the most wonderful town,” Mollie remarked after a pause.  “Why there’s hardly a house that I visited but what the people were willing to accommodate at least one boarder, and in some cases two or three, and, what’s more,” waving her hand enthusiastically, “several of them didn’t even want to take any money for it.”

“And I found almost the very same thing,” agreed Betty, as they linked arms and started on the homeward walk.  “I guess we have enough promises to start with now, and I don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding quarters for all who want them.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if Mrs. Watson is right about our reputation,” said Grace, a little ruefully.  “Because the minute Mrs. Robinson opened the door and saw me she said she hadn’t the slightest idea what I was going to ask her this time, but, seeing it was one of the girls from the Hostess House, she expected to say yes, anyway.”

The girls laughed and for some time afterward walked on in silence, busy with their thoughts.  Then suddenly Betty spoke.

“Girls,” she said soberly, “Mrs. Sanderson is almost well again and I don’t think we’ll be able to keep her with us very much longer.”

“What do you mean?” they cried together, their voices showing how very real their concern was.

“Well,” Betty explained slowly, “it seems she overheard some of us girls talking about the rush of work in store for us and got it into her head that we might need her room.”

“But I don’t see what difference that makes,” protested Mollie.  “As long as we’re doubling up and giving her our room.”

“Well, of course, it appears that way to us,” replied Betty, shaking her head thoughtfully.  “But I’m afraid we can’t hope to make her see it so.  Anyway, Mrs. Watson said she spoke to her about it and said she would be going as soon as she had a chance to say good-bye to the ‘young ladies.’”