“We’re not either,” corrected Marie Engelka.  “We may have to patrol in case of any local trouble.  Wouldn’t we look swell in our uniforms?” and she marched on ahead with arm thrust bolt upright in lieu of a gun, while Dora Silber sounded the tattoo of a drum on Mona Markowitz’s new straw sailor hat.  Mona was short and had to stand the consequences.

“And all the brave things we have to do!  Say, Rose, what did you do to get by all those tests?” demanded Erica Jentz.

“Oh, I just studied,” faltered Rose, “and then I did without things to send money to the folks.  I don’t like to talk about sacrifices, but I am only trying to show you what you can do to make good,” she finished rather lamely.  There was one brave act Rose longed to accomplish, but just then the chances for its undertaking seemed remote.

“Our folks better watch out,” cautioned Mary Furniss, “I’m to learn bed-making, and I have to leave home at six-thirty.  That means an early dumping for sister Jane, who goes to English School.  We always used to call her Jennie, but now she’s Jane,” and Mary mocked the plain American title with a shrill rising inflection.

“Wasn’t it funny how we all laughed on the question of earning fifty cents,” remarked Jeanette.  “Looked as if we thought earning money was a big joke.”

“No, that wasn’t it, Jean,” corrected Dora.  “It was making it fifty cents.  Why, that wouldn’t tip the ‘chink’ who irons our shirtwaists,” and the original laugh was encored.

“Are your folks all gone from Flosston, Rose?” Mary Furniss inquired, just as the little procession was about to break ranks for respective individual “barracks.”

“Oh, yes.  Father got good work in Connecticut, and I may go soon,” replied Rose frankly.

“You’ve got a swell boardin’ house,” commented Nora Noon, the one Irish girl in the new patrol, “and I heard some one say Mrs. Cosgrove was going to start a big lunch-counter for us girls.  They call it a cafeteria.  Can you picture little Nora sittin’ up against anything like that for her corned beef and cabbage!” and the joke epidemic went the usual rounds.

“If anyone could make a lunch counter go, it surely ought to be Mrs. Cosgrove,” affirmed Erica Jentz, “for she just keeps her tea-pot going all the time, and my mother says she never lets her cake run out for fear some one would come in between meals.”

“Well, it’s a sure thing if they come in at meals, they need cake, and if they come in between meals they would be glad to have cake, so it seems to me on that plan Mrs. Cosgrove must need a home bakery,” analyzed Dora Silber.  “But I’ll say, girls, a cafeteria, whatever it is, would be lots better than a lunch-box, and I hope we get it.  So long, scouts.  Here’s where I turn in.  Rose, I’ll be ready for drill any time you say, if I’m not eatin’ or sleepin’.  Don’t worry about the other ‘dooties’ of life.  S’long, girls!  Olive-oil, Jean!  That’s French for good-bye, isn’t it?” and while Jean insisted au revoir was no relation to the term used, the girls paired off, and left Rose with Nora to finish her two more blocks to the Cosgrove cottage.