All of which loving sympathy very nearly caused a fresh outburst on Betty's part. However, she finally got the better of the storm within her and even managed a little smile for the benefit of the girls. Then she wiped away the last tear, sighed, and walked over to the window. "The storm didn't amount to much after all," she said, after a while, very quietly. "Perhaps," and her voice was very wistful, "it's a good omen. We'll all hope so, anyway." "Betty, Betty, you're so wonderful," cried Mollie adoringly. "I never saw any one so brave. You make me ashamed of myself." "Oh, but I'm not brave," denied Betty, turning back to them. "I'm not the least little bit brave. I--I went all to pieces a few minutes ago. But he isn't reported dead," she added, drawing herself up, while two defiant spots of color burned in her face. "And until he is, I'm going to hold on to the hope that he is coming back. Nobody can take that from me, anyway!" "Now, you're making me ashamed of myself," said Grace in a small voice, while the tears glistened in her eyes. "Here I've been imagining the very worst, while you-- Oh, Betty, forgive me, won't you, Dear?" Betty looked at her in real surprise. "I haven't anything to forgive," she said. CHAPTER XXI A NARROW ESCAPE The next day dawned gloriously bright, and the girls chose to take it as a good omen. Following Betty's example, they stopped moping about and imagining the worst, and, although there was not a minute of the day when their hearts were not aching, they managed to smile when the others were looking and to speak hopefully of the future. Under Betty's gallant leadership, they had set up hope in their hearts and refused to give despair a foothold. "What do you say to a swim?" Mollie suggested, looking out over the sparkling white sand to the inviting water beyond. "We've only been in swimming twice since we've been here." "That is a terrible record for Outdoor Girls," Betty agreed. She was bustling busily about the cheerful kitchen making a tempting blueberry pie. There were circles under her eyes and she looked very pale for Betty, but her voice was bright and cheery. "Can't you stop making pies for a few minutes?" asked Mollie, turning to look at her. "It's too nice outdoors to waste time in cooking." "I imagine you wouldn't say that to-night," retorted Betty, fluting the edges of her pie crust. "I notice you generally like the results of my labor." "Who wouldn't?" returned Mollie. "I only know of one person who can make better pies." "And that's yourself, of course." Betty made a little face at her and slipped the pie into the oven. "Just for that you can have only one piece to-night!" "I don't care, if you'll only stop working and come along," insisted Mollie. "If I stay in the house much longer I'll start thinking again--and you know what that means." Betty gave her a quick side-glance, hastily dusted the flour from her hands and took off her apron.