The Outdoor Girls at the Hostess House | Page 6

all
these years o' swearin' that I'd never ride in one o' these gasoline cars to
find myself in one after all,--and at my time o' life."

The girls gasped with relief, but still had the strange feeling of one who
has been speeding over the water with all sails set and suddenly finds
herself in the midst of a dead calm.
"B-but," stammered Amy, voicing the general sentiment, "we
thought--were afraid--you were hurt badly--"
"Guess maybe I'd have thought so, too, if I'd had the chance,"
responded the surprising old lady ruefully. "Pretty well mussed up, I
guess, and stunned. Shouldn't wonder if I found a heap o' bruises
around me somewhere--but no bones broke. You see," she added, as
though imparting a great secret, "the Sandersons' bones jest never was
made to break. Now, there was our cousins--the Petersons--they was
different. One o' that family wouldn't dare waggle his finger too hard
for fear it would bust on him. You see, they was just naturally made
that way. My son, Willie," here the brave voice lowered a trifle and
tears rose to the bright old eyes, "he used to call them in fun--always
jokin', that boy was--the Break-bone Petersons."
"But are you sure you aren't hurt?" Betty insisted, still with that curious
feeling of having the wind taken out of her sails. "You see," she added
hastily, as the twinkle returned to the old woman's eyes, "we were
going to take you to the hospital, but if you are really sure there are no
bones broken, I think you would like the Hostess House better."
"Hostess House?" repeated the old woman, her eyes widening with
interest. "Yes, I've heard a lot about those places. That's where the
sweethearts and mothers and wives of the soldier boys go, isn't it--to
meet them--?"
"Yes," Betty responded eagerly. "You see, that's what we are doing,
helping to make them feel at home. That's why we want you to come
with us now and stay there until you feel better."
"But I'm not a mother, or a wife, or a sweetheart of any of those boys,"
objected the little old woman, while the same cloud swept over her face,
leaving it wrinkled and old. "I--I might have been--if--if--Willie--"

"But that doesn't make any difference," Grace assured her, speaking for
the first time and laying a white, soft hand over the knotted, wrinkled
one. "We want you to stay with us and rest while we try to find the man
who ran you down."
"Oh, him!" cried the old woman scornfully, all the time patting Grace's
hand with gentle fingers. "There's no use wastin' time lookin' for him.
He'll make pretty sure that he won't be seen round these parts
again--not for some time, anyway. But you're dear, sweet little ladies,"
she added, looking from Betty, whose arm still rested about her
shoulders to Grace's hand in hers and from them to the two girls in
front. "You're awfully sweet little ladies," she repeated, while the quick
tears rose to her eyes. "I don't see why you're bein' so kind to me--"
"But we just love to do anything we can," broke in Betty quickly, for
the Outdoor Girls never liked to be thanked. "And we'd like so much to
have you see our Hostess House. That is, if you'd care to," she added,
suddenly remembering that the old woman might not be so helpless and
alone as she had seemed--might have made some other plans. But the
latter quickly reassured her.
"Oh, I would like to, more than anything else in the world," she replied
eagerly, then, realizing that her fervor might astonish the girls, added
with a little forced laugh. "You see, it's a weakness o' mine. Maybe it's
because I'm getting old--but, the soldier boys--I can't seem to see
enough o' them--"
"I don't think it's got anything to do with getting old," Mollie broke in
irrepressibly, "because I feel just that way about it myself. The more I
see, the more I want to see."
The woman's eyes twinkled again. She was about to make some sort of
comment, but at that moment Mollie swung the car into the street
leading to the Hostess House, and the girls gave a little surprised
exclamation at finding themselves so nearly there.
A few minutes later they were ushering their shabby little guest into the
comfortable alcove off the main reception room and settling her

solicitously in one of the cushion-filled window seats.
It was astonishing to see how quickly their patient had recovered from
the accident. She seemed a little weak and unsteady as they helped her
from the car, but going up the steps to the Hostess House she resolutely
refused all assistance and mounted the porch alone.
"Isn't she a darling?" Mollie