“But wouldn’t that be rather raising false hopes?” objected Grace.  “We haven’t very much chance of really making such a promise good, you know.”

“Well, but if we tried hard enough we might think of something,” Betty insisted.  “We might,” she added vaguely, “We might—­advertise—­”

“In what?” queried Amy.

“The papers, of course,” Betty answered impatiently.

“Well,” said Mollie, chewing down the last bit of chocolate and speaking thoughtfully, “there may be something in your idea, at that, Betty.  I don’t know about the others, but I’m with you, anyway.”

CHAPTER XII

WHERE LOVE IS DEAF

“Doesn’t it seem funny,” Amy was saying as she daintily but thoroughly gnawed a chicken bone, “not to have the boys with us?”

“Well I think,” returned Mollie, her nose at an independent angle, “that it’s mighty nice—­for a change.”

“Yes,” Grace agreed, employing her paper napkin to remedy the damage done by a vivid spot of jelly on her skirt.  “They seem to think they can dictate to us.  Imagine it!  To us!  Outdoor girls who have never known what it was to take dictation from any one!”

“Except our Daddies,” Betty broke in, her eyes twinkling.  “I’ve seen even you stand at attention, Gracie dear, when Mr. Ford spoke.”

“Oh well, of course,” said Grace, dismissing the interruption with a wave of her hand.  “We’ve got to obey our parents, till we’re twenty-one anyway.”

“Then I guess we’ve got to go on obeying all the rest of our lives,” said Mollie, with a sigh.

They looked at her curiously.

“For who,” she went on to explain reasonably, “in her right senses is going to admit to being twenty-one?”

“To finish what I was saying,” Grace continued, while Betty and Amy chuckled and Mollie looked wide-eyed and innocent:  “I, for one, will never take dictation from any one outside the home folks—­especially mere boys our own age,”

“Well, no one asked you to,” said Mollie calmly.  “I really don’t see what all the speech-making’s about,” she added.

“It was about the boys,” said Amy, mumbling over her third piece of chicken.

“And by the way they take it for granted we’ve got to do what they say,” finished Grace.

“Well,” said Betty, plucking a piece of grass and rolling it thoughtfully between her fingers, “don’t you think perhaps they act that way because they’re going ‘across’ so soon?”

“I don’t see what that’s got to do with it,” returned Mollie, puzzled.  “I should think that would make them want to be especially nice to us—­leave a good impression, you know.”

“Just the same I can’t help thinking,” Betty persisted, “that that was why they acted so queerly about Sergeant Mullins.  Maybe they think that when they’re several thousand miles away the other boys will have their chance.”