Ruth was up in good season the next morning, and Aunt Deborah was quite willing for her little niece to take Hero for a morning call on Winifred; and it was not yet nine o’clock when Ruth pushed open the gate that led from the alley into the Merrill’s’ garden.

The stable stood beside this gate, and was some distance from the house. Fluff, the pony, had a fine box stall with a window looking into the garden. Fluff belonged to Gilbert; but Gilbert had grown so tall that he thought the pony too small for his use, and on Winifred’s last birthday had given her all right and title to the little gray pony, whose thick mane and plume-like tail had made the name “Fluff” most appropriate.

The stable was nearly hidden from the house by shrubs and trees, and Gilbert and Winifred found it a fine play-house. Ruth often wished that there was a stable in her father’s garden, and that she had a pony exactly like Fluff.

At the sound of Hero’s bark Winifred and Gilbert both appeared in the doorway of the stable, and close behind them stood Betty Hastings. Ruth stood still with a questioning look at Winifred. She was sure that Gilbert had asked Betty to take the part of Lafayette, and for a moment she was tempted to turn away without a word. But before she could act on this impulse there was a chorus of welcoming greetings for her and for Hero, and Winifred came running to meet her.

“Betty is going to take the part of Lord Cornwallis!” Winifred exclaimed, as she put her arm about Ruth and led her to the stable. “Gilbert thinks you were splendid to go straight to General Howe and ask for Hero,” she added, “and Betty wants to hear just what Major Andre said,” so Ruth, instead of finding herself entirely supplanted by Betty, as she had for a moment feared, was surrounded by the eager interest and attention of the little group. It seemed to Ruth that she had never before known how nice Betty Hastings really was. The older girl was evidently greatly impressed by the fact that Ruth had sat next to the English General at his dinner table.

“I wish I could have been you, Ruth,” she declared admiringly.

“It was all right for Ruth to ask for her dog,” Gilbert interrupted, “but I wouldn’t have sat down at General Howe’s table. Not much I wouldn’t.”

“But Major Andre lifted me up. I didn’t do it myself,” replied Ruth, suddenly ashamed that she had entirely forgotten that the English officers were her enemies, and had even been rather pleased that no other little girl in Philadelphia could say that she had sat at the dinner table of the great English General.

“And you are no better than a Tory, Betty Hastings,” Gilbert continued, looking disapprovingly toward brown-eyed Betty. “You said a little while ago that you would rather be Lord Cornwallis than Washington.”

“Well, what if I did? I only meant in your play; because the English uniform is fine. All scarlet and gold,” Betty explained. She was smiling, and evidently did not care at all if Gilbert did not approve of her. “Come on and tell us what your play is about,” she added.

Gilbert’s frown vanished. He drew a roll of paper from his pocket; and, looking soberly at his companions, said:

“The name of my play is ‘America Defeats the Foe.’ It is in two acts. The first act is Lord Cornwallis, that’s you, Betty, on his knees asking Washington to spare his life. The second act is Washington and Lafayette and their triumphant army, Winifred is the army, marching into Philadelphia.”

“Um-m,” said Betty slowly, “what does Washington say when Lord Cornwallis asks him to spare his life?”

“I don’t just know yet,” Gilbert admitted. “I thought I’d wait until we rehearsed.”

“You said Fluff and Hero were to have parts,” Winifred reminded him, a little anxiously.

“What does Lafayette wear?” asked Ruth.

Gilbert’s face flushed: “Just like girls, wanting to know everything before I’ve had time to think. But I can tell you one thing, we’ll have to plan our costumes now.”

“Mine is all planned,” said Betty; “you know there is an English officer lodging at our house, and I’ll borrow his scarlet coat.”

“My Aunt Deborah has seen Lafayette,” Ruth announced proudly, “and I’ll ask her to tell me just what he wore, and then perhaps I can look just like him.”

Winifred said nothing. Gilbert had already told her that he meant to dress up two broomsticks as American soldiers, and these were to “march” on each side of Winifred, with her aid and assistance. She was always ready to help Gilbert in all his plans, but she was beginning to think that it would be rather a difficult task to be a triumphant army; especially as Gilbert had told her that she must cheer for Washington and Lafayette when they reached the “State House,” whose location he had not yet decided on.

“Aren’t you going to have any girls or women in your play?” asked Betty, apparently not greatly pleased with Gilbert’s brief description. “I think you ought to have Lady Washington in a balcony waving her handkerchief, when the victorious army enters Philadelphia. I could be Lady Washington, because I’ll be all through being Lord Cornwallis in the first act,” and Betty smiled at her companions as if sure they would be greatly pleased by her suggestion.

“Why, yes -” began Gilbert, but before he could say more a wail from Winifred made them all look at her in surprise.

“Betty Hastings shan’t be everything! If she’s going to be Lady Washington I won’t play. I won’t be an army, anyway,” she sobbed.

“Oh! I don’t care!” said Betty good-humored. “I just happened to think of it, that’s all. I’d just as soon be the army.”

It was finally decided that Winifred should be Lady Washington, and wave from the top of the grain-bin when the triumphant army passed. Lafayette was to ride on Fluff, and Gilbert said he meant to borrow a horse for George Washington. Hero was to follow the army. It was dinner-time before all these important questions were settled; and it was agreed that they would meet again the next morning for another rehearsal. Gilbert promised to have speeches ready for Lafayette and Cornwallis.

“The way it is now nobody has anything to say but Washington,” Betty had said, and Gilbert had agreed that Cornwallis should at least say, “Spare me, noble Washington,” while Lafayette could make some response to Washington’s speech, which Betty thought far too long, thanking the young Frenchman for his aid to America.

“I wish Gilbert would let you make up our speeches, Betty,” said Ruth, looking up at her companion with admiring eyes, as the two girls stopped for a moment at Ruth’s door. “It wasn’t any play at all until you told him what to do.”

“It will come out all right,” responded Betty. “It’s the dressing up that will be fun. I wish we could get Ned Ferris to play the drum and march ahead.”

Ruth agreed that a drummer would make it seem more like a triumphant army.

“Do you suppose the English officer at your house will really lend you his red coat?” questioned Ruth.

Betty laughed. “Of course he will; for he won’t know anything about it. ’Tis his best coat, and hangs in a closet in the passage near his room. He wears it only now and then. I shall just borrow it, and then hang it back in the closet,” declared Betty. “Just as you did your mother’s dress,” she added quickly, as if half-afraid of Ruth’s disapproval, and with a “good-bye until to-morrow, Lafayette,” she ran quickly down the street.

Ruth was a little thoughtful as she went into the house. She wished that she had told Betty that she was sorry about borrowing her mother’s dress without permission, and that it would be wiser to ask the soldier to lend his coat. Then she remembered that Betty was nearly thirteen, and of course must know more than a little girl only just past ten.

Aunt Deborah greeted her smilingly. “I have been brushing thy mother’s gown, Ruth. ’Twas sadly in need of it, and a tear on the side breadth. But I have mended it so well that ’twill hardly be noticed, and sponged and pressed the dress until it looks as well as ever,” she said.

Ruth’s face brightened.

“Oh! I am so glad, Aunt Deborah. Then Mother need not know I wore it, or that I went to see General Howe. You will not tell her, will you, Aunt Deborah?” said Ruth eagerly.

The smile faded from Aunt Deborah’s face, and she turned away from Ruth with a little sigh.

“No, I will not tell her, Ruth. But thee will surely do that thyself,” she answered.

“But you say the dress looks as well as ever,” said Ruth, “and, oh, Aunt Deborah! It will make Mother feel so bad to know that I was so thoughtless,” and Ruth looked pleadingly toward her aunt.

“Thee shall settle the matter for thyself, Ruth. But I hope thee will tell thy mother,” responded Aunt Deborah. But Ruth made no reply.

In the afternoon Winifred came over, and the two little girls sat down on the back porch to talk over Gilbert’s play. Winifred said that the broomsticks could be dressed up in some blue coverlets, with cocked hats made from paper, and Ruth promised to help Winifred make the hats.

“Betty is going to borrow her mother’s fine silk cape and bonnet for me to wear as Lady Washington,” Winifred continued eagerly. “Isn’t Betty splendid to let me have the very best part of all, and to get so many nice things for us to dress up in?”

“Will she ask her mother for the cape and bonnet?” Ruth questioned.

“Of course she will,” declared Winifred, “and I have thought of something. We can dress Josephine and Cecilia in their best dresses, and have them sit beside Lady Washington on the top of the grain box.”

Ruth agreed that such a plan would add to the success of Gilbert’s play.

“My mother is coming home in a few days,” she said when Winifred said that she must go home.

“Well, I guess she will be proud when you tell her that you went to General Howe and made him find Hero,” Winifred replied. For Winifred was sure that it had been a very courageous act to face the English General.

“I am not going to tell her a word about it,” was Ruth’s reply.