Betty’s mother had left not only the lemonade but some sandwiches of chopped nuts and cream cheese.  Jubilantly the girls carried these delicacies out on the front porch and proceeded to devour them without further delay.

As they ate and drank, their ill-humor vanished and they began to feel once more like their cheerful, optimistic selves.  They even began to laugh a little about the close shave they had had with Percy and his friend.

“It was mighty clever work of yours, Betty, swerving around like that,” Mollie said reminiscently, as she patted the Little Captain’s hand approvingly.  “I’m sure I would have been so scared I’d have gone right ahead and then there would have been a nasty smash.”

“I do hope the folks don’t hear about it,” worried Grace.  “It would only make them nervous and they might even refuse to let us go out in the Gem any more.”

“I don’t see how the folks are going to know anything about it,” said Amy calmly.

“Unless our dear friend Percy blabs it all over town,” added Grace.

“I think we ought to tell the folks,” Betty spoke up suddenly.  “I know they would rather hear about it from us than from any one else.  Hello,” she broke off, as her eye lighted on a newspaper lying on the table, “this looks like the evening edition.  Maybe it has some news of Allen’s division.”

“My, just listen to her,” yawned Grace.  “Allen’s division, indeed.  As though he were the only one we were interested in——­”

But her words were cut short by a startled exclamation from Betty.

“Oh, girls, look here!” she cried.  “Look at these names.  Oh, I hope it isn’t true!  I hope it isn’t!”

CHAPTER VII

 Bad tidings confirmed

“I wish I knew what you were talking about,” said Mollie, pausing with a sandwich half-way to her mouth, while Amy and Grace regarded the Little Captain with astonishment.  “What names?  Where?”

But Betty was paying no attention to them.  She was reading hastily the column that had caught her startled attention.

“Listen to this,” she said, reading out loud.  “Among those who were killed in the last great Allied offensive are the names of these brave soldiers.  James Browning of Columbus, Ohio—­ No, that isn’t what I mean—­ Look, here they are—­ James Dempsey and Arnold Dempsey, Junior.  Girls, do you suppose—­” and she looked at them with widening eyes.

“Arnold Dempsey, Arnold Dempsey,” repeated Mollie, searching in her memory, but Amy interrupted excitedly.

“That was Professor Dempsey’s name, wasn’t it?” she asked.  “Oh, Betty, do you suppose it could be his son?”

“Why, of course it is his son—­ how could it be any one else?” cried Grace, the excitement beginning to communicate itself to her.  “Arnold Dempsey, Junior—­ and the professor said his sons were over there.”