It was several days after the telegram had come which had so upset them and their plans, and they were sitting dejectedly on the sand at the foot of the bluff trying to read. The attempt had proved a failure, however, and one after another the books had dropped to their laps while they stared disconsolately out over the water. "What would you suggest?" asked Grace listlessly, in response to Mollie's statement. "Can't we go in swimming again?" asked Amy mildly. "No!" Mollie was very positive. "The boy will be coming with the provisions and letters in a little while, and there may be a telegram or something from mother. If there isn't pretty soon, I'll go mad." "Let's take a walk then," suggested Betty. But again Mollie would have none of it. "Too warm," she said. "Well, I thought you were the one who wanted to do something," said Grace, getting up and shaking the sand from her dress. "I guess the trouble is," she added, "that you don't know what you want." "Yes I do," said Mollie, while the tears rose to her eyes and she shook them away impatiently. "Only the one thing I want more than anything else I can't get." "Maybe you forget," said Grace, while her own voice trembled a little, "that I'm very nearly in the same fix." "No, we don't," cried Betty quickly. "But the only way we can hope to bear the horrible things that are happening to us is to get busy at something and try to occupy our minds." "It's all very well for you to talk," Mollie retorted, in her nervous state saying something she never would have thought of saying under normal conditions, "but nothing terrible has happened to you yet. Wait till it does. Then maybe it won't be so easy to get your mind off it." The thoughtless speech stung, and Betty turned away to hide the hurt in her eyes. "Perhaps you're right," she said quietly. "Nothing very terrible has happened to me yet, personally. But perhaps you forget that we girls always share each other's troubles--" But Mollie would not let her finish. She was down on her knees beside her chum, penitent arms about her shoulders and was pouring out an apology. "I ought to be tarred and feathered," she cried breathlessly. "I don't know what made me say such a thing, Honey." "I know," said Betty gently, "and that's why it didn't go very deep--what you said." "You're a darling!" cried Mollie. She gave the Little Captain another bear's hug, then sat down in the sand again with her arms clasped about her knees. "It's this everlasting uncertainty and the feeling of helplessness that gets on one's nerves so. I always did hate to wait for anything--especially with my imagination." "What's that got to do with it?" asked Amy, surprised. "Why, it--the imagination, I mean--just goes running around in circles, thinking up all the horrible things that might have happened until I almost go crazy. If I only didn't have to think!"