"Oh, Betty, we just mustn't think of things like that!" said Mollie, her voice quivering. "No matter how we feel, we've just got to keep on smiling for the boys' sake." "I know," said Betty, straightening up with a pathetic little attempt at a smile. "We'll all have to say like the little boy that fell down and hurt himself, 'I'm not cryin'; I'm laughin'.' Yes, we're coming." This last was interpolated by way of encouragement to Frank, who had been sent back to look for them. They found Allen propped up in a huge armchair before a fire, which had been hastily laid in the grate, looking rather pale and wan, but tremendously interested in the proceedings, nevertheless. "Betty," he said pleadingly, stretching out a hand to her. Without a word she went over to him, taking it in both her own. "I don't want you to go out of my sight," he whispered, while the others thoughtfully looked the other way. "My shoulder doesn't ache when you're around," he added whimsically, knowing how clearly Betty saw through him; "but when you go away, the ache in it is--fiendish!" "I won't go away," Betty promised, touching the bandaged shoulder gently. "Never?" he queried eagerly, twisting around so he could see her face. "Is that a promise, Betty?" "While your shoulder hurts," she added quickly, while the color, which did not come from the fire, flooded her face. "I--I hate to be cross with you when you're not feeling well," she added, trying to be severe, "but if you don't stop--looking at me--Allen... See, they're waiting to read the letter!" [Illustration: WILL LEANED FORWARD, REGARDING THE PAPER CLOSELY.] "Does that mean I have to stop looking at you?" queried Allen, with a smile. "Oh, well, I'll not complain, if you'll only keep on holding my hand, Betty. I'd have a chronic bullet wound all the rest of my life--" "Well, when the invalid and hero of the occasion is ready," Will broke in, his patience at an end, "we should be pleased to read a document, which probably will seem dull and uninteresting to him beside what he has to say--" "Oh, Will, please don't talk so much," cried Grace. "If you don't hurry I'll be so sleepy it wouldn't bother me if Adolph Hensler turned out to be the Kaiser himself." "Yes, speed up, old man," Roy added. "Expectation may be better than realization, but I don't believe it." "Well," said Will, opening the letter which had not been sealed, with exasperating deliberation, "we shall see--what we shall see." He leaned forward, regarding the paper closely in the yellow lamplight, while the others crowded eagerly about him. "Well--what-do-you-know-about-that!" he said slowly, pushing the paper from him disgustedly. "All in code--and a code that will need an expert to figure it out. Gee, that's a mean trick, that is!" Frank picked up the paper and pored over it for a moment, while the rest watched him anxiously. "Yes, that's a stiff one," he said at last. "I guess there's no use in our wasting time over it."