“That’s the secret, dear girls, and that’s why the boys are all eager to be assigned here.  Also, the boys in the permanent garrison will sing your praises to the few who have not already heard them, and of course we shall have to live up to their opinion of us.”

“Well, if just doing what we have been doing gives us such a reputation,” said Amy soberly, “I guess it won’t be hard to live up to it in the future.”

“Only,” said Mrs. Watson warningly, “the work before us is apt to be very much more trying and arduous than any we have yet had.  The camp is going to be filled to overflowing, and of course that will mean entertaining continually for us.

“We may even,” she added thoughtfully, “have to quarter some of the relatives and friends outside the camp in private homes, and, of course, it will be up to us to find those homes.”

“You mean we are to go canvassing—­the way we did that Thanksgiving?” queried Betty.

Mrs. Watson nodded, and Grace groaned.

“Well,” said the latter, “I don’t care.  In fact, I rather like the idea if only my feet will hold out.”

“They look pretty durable,” remarked Mollie gravely.

“But you don’t know how they feel,” retorted Grace, wiggling one foot in its trim slipper experimentally.  “Every time I get a pair of shoes I have to get a size larger, and you know,” argumentatively, “at that rate I’ll be a freak and you’ll be able to charge admission for a look at me.”

“Good,” cried Mrs. Watson, laughing with the others.  “I knew some one would be clever enough to think up a new way of making money.  Keep it right up, Grace.”

“Yes,” said Betty drolly, “just think of the good you can do!”

CHAPTER XX

THE MOTORCYCLIST AGAIN

“What a glorious morning!” cried Betty, raising her face to the brilliant sunshine.  “I feel as if I could walk miles and miles and miles and never stop.”

“Well, it’s lucky for you that you do,” sighed Grace.  “Perhaps you’d be willing to walk a few for me.”

“Oh, don’t give up, Grade dear, before we’ve even started,” cried Betty, giving a little exuberant skip with the sheer joy of being alive.  “Anyway,” she added, with inspiration, “if you get tired you and Mollie can go back and get the car.”

“And have to walk miles to get it,” Grace objected.  “No, Betty, you’ll have to think up something better than that.”

“I wouldn’t waste my time on such a lazy person, Betty,” said Mollie, who was walking briskly ahead with Amy.  “I suppose we might have brought the car,” she added, after a minute, “only it seems foolish when you have to stop at every house you come to.”

“It not only seems foolish—­it is foolish,” said Betty cheerily.

“Oh, I tell you what,” cried Amy, seized with sudden inspiration, while the girls stared at her expectantly.