“What is this?” called a pleasant voice, and the two soldiers halted instantly and saluted a young officer who blocked their way.

“If thee please, sir, there has been a mistake made,” said Aunt Deborah, and proceeded to tell the story of the birthday entertainment that the children had given for Mrs. Merrill.

The young officer listened gravely.

“As you say, madam, they are but children; but such games find little favor among loyal English people,” he responded.

“But thee must remember we are Americans,” said Aunt Deborah fearlessly. The young officer turned and walked beside them. Now and then he smiled as if amused by his own thoughts, but he said nothing more until they reached the headquarters of the General.

“Wait here a moment,” he said, and ran up the steps.

“I shall tell them that Ruth had nothing to do with it, and that I am the only one to blame,” Gilbert said to Mrs. Pernell. “Of course they won’t punish any one but me.”

Before Mrs. Pernell could reply the young officer appeared at the door, and came slowly down the steps.

“Come with me, young sir,” he said, resting his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. “You may take the little girls home, ladies,” he added. “I am quite sure they will not prove a danger to England’s cause.”

“I will wait for my son,” said Mrs. Merrill. “I do not suppose you mean to detain him long.”

“I cannot say as to that, madam; but you are quite welcome to wait. If you will come in I will see that you find a comfortable chair,” he replied courteously.

“I will wait here,” said Mrs. Merrill.

“And we will wait also,” declared Ruth’s mother.

Ruth and Winifred clasped each other’s hands as they watched Gilbert being led up the steps. They thought their mothers were very brave indeed to reply so calmly to an English officer.

Gilbert was absent not more than a half hour, but it seemed much longer to the anxious little group. He came down the steps alone, and when his mother slipped her hand under one arm while Winifred clasped his other hand he smiled and said: “Humph! All they did was laugh and tell me to choose a better plot for my next play. They are not soldiers at all. Why, they asked me if I would not like to take a part in one of Major Andre’s plays.”

“What did you say, Gilbert?” questioned Winifred.

“I said ‘No.’ And that’s all I said. And I did not thank them for the offer; and then they laughed more than ever. I wish Washington would drive them out of Philadelphia,” answered Gilbert, who was a trifle disappointed that the Englishmen had not taken his play more seriously. He would not have minded if he had been held as a prisoner for a few days; it would have made him feel that he had really done something to prove his loyalty to the American cause.

But Mrs. Merrill was very glad to have her tall son safely beside her, although she was inclined to agree with him that the gay young English officers took their duties too lightly. There had been balls at the City Tavern every week during the winter, and most of the officers seemed to forget that there were dangers in store for them from the American Army at Valley Forge.

Gilbert’s adventure made Ruth and Winifred completely forget their plan to make a table as a present for Betty until late that afternoon; and then they decided not to begin it until after Aunt Deborah’s departure the next day.

“Mother has a table shaped like a heart. We could mark a heart on that square piece of dark wood with chalk and then cut it out,” suggested Winnie. “I am sure Betty would like that better than a plain square table.”

“Of course she would,” agreed Ruth. Neither of the little girls realized how hard an undertaking it would be to carve a heart-shaped table top from the square piece of mahogany.

Ruth was awake at an early hour the next morning. The April sun shone warmly in through her open window; the robins, who had built a nest in the hawthorn tree, sang jubilantly as if rejoicing that spring was really at hand, and Ruth could hear her mother and Aunt Deborah moving about in the lower rooms. It was just the day for a ride in the country.

Ruth was glad that Winifred had thought of so pleasant a plan as driving a part of the way with Aunt Deborah. Both the little girls had taken it for granted that their mothers would have no objection. Winifred was used to driving the pony, and had often taken Ruth with her, but they had never been farther than Fair Mount, a pleasant hill just outside the town on the Schuylkill River, or along the quiet streets of the town; but to-day Winifred had said that they would drive until Aunt Deborah should tell them to turn toward home.

Farmer Withal usually arrived in the city at an early hour, delivered his produce, then gave the big brown horse an hour or two rest, and was ready to start on his return journey directly after dinner.

Aunt Deborah did not keep him waiting, and was at the gate with Mrs. Pernell beside her when the round-faced smiling farmer in his long coat of heavy blue drilling and his wide-rimmed hat came driving up.

“Where can Ruth be?” her mother said anxiously, as the farmer lifted Aunt Deborah’s trunk into the back of the wagon and stood waiting to help her mount to the high seat.

At that moment the pony carriage drew up behind the wagon with Winnie and Ruth smiling and waving their hands at Aunt Deborah.

“We are going a little way with you, Mistress Farleigh,” called Winifred.

“May I go, Mother?” Ruth added.

Aunt Deborah was evidently greatly pleased that the little girls had wished to go a little way with her on her journey home, and Mrs. Pernell smiled and nodded her consent, thinking that Ruth would be safely back in an hour at the longest, and waving her good-byes as Farmer Withal climbed to his seat and the brown horse trotted off, closely followed by Fluff.

Down the street they went, turning now into the broader highway and at last reaching the river road that led straight to Mat son’s Ford, beyond which the road led on to Valley Forge.

As they came in sight of the river the big horse stopped, and in a moment Fluff was beside the farmer’s cart. Aunt Deborah smiled down at the little girls.

“’Tis best that thee turn toward home now. And I thank thee both for coming so far with me. ’Twill not be long now, Ruth, before I hope to see thee at Barren Hill. And thee, Winifred, will be welcome also whenever thou canst give me the pleasure of a visit.”

Before Aunt Deborah had finished speaking Ruth was out of the pony carriage and standing on the step of Farmer Withe’s cart holding up a package.

“Here is something I made for you, Aunt Deborah,” she said. Aunt Deborah reached down and received the small carefully wrapped package.

“Thank thee, dear child,” she said, and Ruth stood by the roadside and waved a good-bye as the brown horse trotted off at a more rapid pace than he had traveled through the town.

“I wish we could have gone farther,” she said regretfully as she went back to her seat beside Winifred.

“Well, we can. We’ll turn up that shady road and see where it goes,” responded Winifred. “What did you give your aunt?”

“A needle-book. Mother helped me make it. It is of blue flannel, with embroidered edges, and shaped like a small book, with Aunt Deborah’s initials on the cover,” said Ruth. “Would it not be pleasant if you could visit Aunt Deborah when I do?”

Winifred feared that such a visit would not be possible. But the two little friends talked of many things as Fluff trotted along the narrow country road, hardly more than a lane, and sheltered by closely growing trees. Now and then the road came out into an open space, and there would be many violets growing close to the roadside. Then the girls sprang from the cart and gathered handfuls of the fragrant blossoms, while Fluff nibbled at the grass, or twisted his head to watch his young mistress. The wild honeysuckle was also in bloom along a sloping pasture, and Ruth was eager to gather it to take home to her mother. She climbed up the rough slope, followed by Winifred, and they soon had large bunches of the delicate blossoms. From the top of the little hill that they had climbed they could see the distant line of the blue river, and after roaming about for a time they decided it was time to return to Fluff and start for home. The pony whinnied a little impatiently and shook his head at them as they approached.

“He thinks we have stayed too long,” said Winifred laughingly. “What time do you suppose it is, Ruth?”

“Oh! we can’t have been away from home more than an hour,” said Ruth; “but the sky looks cloudy, doesn’t it?”

But it was not clouds that made the sky darken, it was the rapidly approaching twilight. The tall trees shut out the golden spring sunshine; and the afternoon had passed so pleasantly that neither Ruth nor Winifred had any idea that evening was close at hand, or that they were miles from home in a solitary and unknown road that had seemed to grow more narrow as they went on.

“Perhaps we had better turn around now,” suggested Winifred a few moments after they had gathered the wild honeysuckle. “I told Mother we would be home early. Why, what is the matter with Fluff?” she added in a startled tone, for the little pony had come to a full stop.

Both the little girls jumped out of the cart and ran to the pony’s head, which drooped low. Fluff was breathing heavily, and it seemed to Winifred as if his slender legs trembled.

“Why, he can’t be tired. He had that long rest just now,” said Ruth anxiously. Neither of them realized that ever since leaving the river the road had run steadily up-hill, or that the pony had been traveling for a number of hours. Fluff was no longer young, and he had never been required to go long distances; and now he could go no further.

“I’ll take off his harness,” said Winifred quickly. “I hope he isn’t going to have a fit. Ned Farris’s pony has fits.” It did not take her long to set Fluff free from the pony-cart, and he turned a grateful look toward his little mistress, who began to wish there was a brook or spring near at hand where the little creature could drink.

Ruth smoothed Fluff’s head, and Winifred with a bunch of wayside grass rubbed his back and legs.

“He’s going to lie down,” said Winifred as Fluff moved his head about quickly; and in a moment the tired little creature had stretched himself at their feet.

“What shall we do? I am sure Fluff can’t take us home,” exclaimed Winifred, “and we can’t go and leave him here.”

“It can’t be very far from home,” responded Ruth. “I could go home and tell Gilbert, and he would come right back for you with Ned’s pony.”

“But what could we do with Fluff?” asked Winifred a little despondently. “He is too tired to drive home.”

“Perhaps he’d be rested enough by that time to go home, if he didn’t have to pull the cart,” said Ruth; “anyway, I do think one of us ought to go home or our mothers will think some harm has befallen us. I’ll stay, if you would rather go.”

But Winifred shook her head. She did not wish to leave the pony; neither was she pleased at the thought of staying by herself on that lonely road. At last, however, they decided that Ruth’s plan was the best they could think of, and Ruth started.

“I’ll hurry all the way, Winifred; and Gilbert will come back as fast as he can,” she called as she started to run down the hill.