They found Mrs. Ford in the living room, pale and trembling a little, holding the envelope in her hand as though she dared not open it. Grace had collapsed in a chair and was gazing up at her mother with such agonized pleading in her eyes that the girls could not look at her. Then very slowly Mrs. Ford tore open the envelope. At the same moment the girls seemed to sense that they might be in some manner intruding, and with one accord they moved over to the window and stood looking out. After a wait that seemed interminable they heard Grace say in a strained, far-away little voice: "Mother, what is it? Can't you tell me? I think I'll die if I have to wait any longer." "Read it," they heard Mrs. Ford say in a choked voice, as a rustle of paper told that she had handed the letter to Grace. "I can't tell you dear. Oh, my boy, my boy!" And she sank down in a chair and covered her face with her hands. The girls turned from the window and started to leave the room, for they felt that the moment was too sacred for even them who were so intensely interested, to share. Just as they reached the door they paused, arrested by a cry from Grace. "Seriously wounded!" she read in a muffled voice. "Oh, Mother, for all we know, that may mean Will is--dead!" They were startled by a muffled sob, and turned in time to see Amy rush from the room. Poor little Amy! In the excitement and grief of the moment they had forgotten that she might also be affected by this news of Will! Betty and Mollie ran upstairs after her, leaving Grace and her mother together. "And I was so hoping," said Betty as she closed the door softly and Mollie flung herself on the bed, "that it would be good news." "Yes," said Mollie, staring moodily out the window, "it does seem that everything terrible that can happen to us is happening all at once. I wonder what's next." "There isn't going to be any next," said Betty, but in her heart she was not so sure. Almost everyone in the world was suffering, one way or another, and it was only to be expected that they would get their full share. And as she thought of Allen a hot wave of fear went over her, leaving her faint and sick. Out there in the very thickest of the fight, it would be a miracle if he should be saved to come back to her. But he must come back, he _must_ come back, her heart cried over and over again. Hadn't he said he would? And Allen always kept his word. Then she shook herself, and with an effort brought her wandering thought back to this new trouble--or rather, confirmation of an old one. From the time Mrs. Ford had received the telegram telling of Will's wound, they had hoped against hope that it had been a mistake, or that at least, the wound had not been serious.