Although Ruth was up in good season the next morning, she had only started the kitchen fire when Mrs. Merrill and Gilbert appeared at the kitchen door with a basket containing breakfast for Mrs. Pennell and Ruth.

Gilbert was all ready to start for his drive to Germantown, and, after a few words with Mrs. Pennell, hurried away.

Mrs. Merrill bathed the sprained ankle and helped Ruth’s mother to a comfortable chair near the window.

“May I not put the little table by your chair, Mother, and have my breakfast here with you?” asked Ruth.

“Yes, indeed! That is exactly what I was wishing you to do, my dear,” responded Mrs. Pennell; and Ruth ran away to the kitchen and brought in the hot corn bread that Mrs. Merrill had brought, the dish of porridge and the pot of steaming coffee. Then she drew a chair up opposite her mother, and they smiled happily at each other across the small table.

Mrs. Pennell declared that her foot was much better.

“I am sure your Aunt Clara will return with Gilbert,” she continued, “but even then I am afraid you will have to do a good deal more than ever before, Ruthie, dear, for Aunt Clara is not yet fully recovered from her illness.”

Ruth felt rather proud to know that her mother relied upon her to be of so much help, and, for the moment, quite forgot the visit to Barren Hill. She told her mother of all the delights of Betty’s May-day party, and when she carried the breakfast dishes out to the kitchen she was almost her happy self again.

Winifred came over and helped Ruth with the household work that morning, and early in the afternoon Aunt Clara arrived; who, in spite of Mrs. Pennell’s fears in regard to her strength, declared herself quite equal to taking care of her sister and attending to the work of the house.

Nevertheless Ruth was kept busy for a number of days; she did not go very far from her mother’s sitting-room, and Mrs. Pennell said that her little daughter was “hands and feet” for her lame mother.

Mrs. Pennell’s fingers were busy making a dress for Ruth. It was of white linen that Aunt Deborah had woven herself, and brought as a present to Ruth, and Mrs. Pennell was hemstitching the broad collar and dainty cuffs.

“Your Aunt Deborah will be pleased if you have the dress to wear when you visit her,” said Mrs. Pennell, a few days after her accident, when Ruth sat beside her, both busy with their needles.

“But I can’t go to Barren Hill, Mother. You couldn’t spare me,” replied Ruth.

“Of course you must go to Barren Hill. Not just at present; but in a week or two I shall be hobbling about the house, and your Aunt Clara will stay with me while you are away,” said Mrs. Pennell.

“Truly? Am I really to go to Barren Hill?” exclaimed Ruth, dropping her work, and jumping up from her chair. “Oh! I’m so glad.”

Mrs. Pennell looked at her little girl in surprise. She had had no idea how much Ruth had counted on this visit, nor with what disappointment she had given it up.

“Why, my dear child, you have not said a word about your visit since I hurt my ankle. I had not an idea that you wished to go so much,” she said.

“I didn’t wish to go when you couldn’t take a step,” Ruth declared.

“Well! I think it is almost worth while to have a sprained ankle to find out what a good little daughter I have,” said her mother. “I feel very proud indeed. And now I think you had best put on your hat and go and make Betty Hastings an afternoon visit. It is nearly a week since her May party.”

“I will ask Winifred to go, too,” said Ruth eagerly, feeling happier than she had since her mother’s accident.

“You had best change your dress, dear; put on your blue chambray,” suggested her mother, and Ruth ran off to her own room, singing, “Joy is everywhere,” as gaily as she had sung it when dancing around Betty’s throne.

In a little while she was back in the sitting-room, all ready for her visit. In the pretty blue dress, and wearing a white hat with a blue ribbon around the crown, and with her white stockings and low shoes with shining silver buckles, Ruth was indeed a little girl of whom any mother might be proud.

Winifred was soon ready to accompany her, and the two friends started on their walk to see Betty Hastings.

As they came in sight of the Hastings house they both exclaimed in surprise. For on the steps was Betty, wearing her best hat, and the tall English officer, whose red coat Betty had borrowed for Gilbert’s play, stood beside her.

“Do you suppose Betty is a prisoner?” whispered Winnie, a little fearfully.

“Of course she isn’t, all dressed up in her best,” replied Ruth, and at that moment Betty saw her two friends and waved her hand to them as she came down the steps beside the English officer.

“Oh, Winifred! Ruth! I am so glad you came. Now you can go with us to Walnut Grove and see the English officers practising for their tournament. Captain Harlow says you may go,” she exclaimed, running forward to meet them.

Before Ruth or Winifred could reply the tall officer was beside Betty, and she now introduced him to her friends. Ruth and Winnie curtsied, with rather sober faces, and the Englishman bowed politely, and said that he should be happy to have Ruth and Winifred accompany them.

The young Englishman had lodged with Mrs. Hastings ever since the September day when the English army entered Philadelphia. He had been unfailingly kind to all the family, and when he offered to take Betty to Walnut Grove to see the preparations already well under way for the “Mischianza,” as the soldiers named their famous entertainment to be given in honor of General Howe, Mrs. Hastings was quite willing for Betty to go.

“We shall be home in good season. I am sure your mothers would be willing,” urged Betty, “and ’twill be a fine sight to-day, since the soldiers are to rehearse, as we did for Gilbert’s play.”

“Let’s go, Ruth,” Winifred whispered eagerly, and Ruth agreed, but with a vague feeling that she ought not to wish to be entertained by the amusements of America’s enemies.

As they walked on toward Knight’s Wharf, at the water edge of Green Street, where a boat was waiting to take Captain Harlow and his guests down the river to Mr. Wharton’s country place, Ruth kept repeating the word “tournament” to herself, and wondering what it meant. Betty must know, she thought, for she had spoken it so easily. She resolved to ask her at the first opportunity.

A rowboat with two sailors was waiting for the captain, and he helped the little girls to the comfortable seats, and took his place at the tiller, and with a word to the oarsmen the boat moved out from the wharf and headed toward Southwark.

“What does ‘tournament’ mean, Betty?” Ruth whispered.

“Wait and see,” laughed Betty.

“Does it mean the same as ’rehearsal’?” persisted Ruth.

“Not exactly,” replied Betty, who only that very morning had asked her mother the same question. “It really means a make-believe battle,” she explained, seeing Ruth’s look of disappointment. “Men dress up in armor, such as soldiers used to wear, and their horses wear shields, and the men have long spears, and make-believe attack each other.”

“Shall we see that to-day?” Ruth questioned.

But before Betty could answer she realized that Captain Harlow was speaking.

“I suppose you all know what the Knights of the days of Chivalry fought for?” he was saying, with a friendly smile at the three little American girls who were his guests.

“What are ’Knights’?” questioned Winifred.

“Can you answer that, Miss Betty?” asked the captain.

“Mother told me that a knight was a brave soldier, whose king gave him a sword, and then said: ‘Arise, Sir Knight,’” replied Betty, while Ruth and Winifred listened admiringly, thinking their friend Betty must be the most clever girl in Philadelphia.

“Well, that is near enough,” replied the young officer, “but I will tell you that in olden times knights used to have tilts, or tournaments, such as we mean to have on the eighteenth of this month. White Knights against the Knights of the Blended Rose.”

It all sounded very wonderful to the three little girls, and Ruth was eager to reach Southwark, fearing that they might miss some part of this rehearsal.

The beautiful river was very still that pleasant afternoon in May, and the boat moved rapidly along, now and then passing some fishing-craft or pleasure boat, and the little girls smiled happily at each other, thinking that this indeed was a great adventure.

As the boat drew near the landing place, they could see a number of people on the wharf, and one of these Ruth at once recognized as Major Andre, the young officer who had introduced her to General Howe on the night when she had gone to demand the return of Hero.

Captain Harlow led the little girls to a bench on the further side of Mr. Wharton’s beautiful lawn. “Stay here until I come after you,” he said and hurried away.

The girls looked about admiringly. Just across the lawn from where they were sitting men were at work on a pavilion, in which the guests would be seated to view the “Mischianza.” Soldiers on horseback were riding back and forth, and a trumpet call sent them all trotting away, to return immediately with long lances and shields on their left arms. Forming in two divisions they galloped forward and back, turning so quickly that Ruth and Betty both exclaimed, fearful that the riders would be thrown.

In a little while Captain Harlow came and took his guests to visit the ballroom. From the garden they ascended a short flight of steps, and entered a spacious hall, lined with mirrors. Never had the little girls seen anything so wonderful. Wherever they looked they saw Betty, Ruth, and Winifred all smiling with delight. Captain Harlow called a servant, and in a few moments the man returned with a silver tray on which were plates of candied fruits, cakes, and glasses of lemonade for his little guests.

“It’s more wonderful than the May-day party,” whispered Winifred.

But Ruth did not hear her. For at that moment two officers had entered the room.

“Sir Henry Clinton will arrive to-morrow, and General Howe will soon be on his way to England,” she heard one of them say.

“’Tis a pity he cannot capture young Lafayette and take him back to England with him. King George would give him a royal welcome,” responded the other.

“There is some such plan afoot,” declared the first speaker.

“‘Capture Lafayette!’” Ruth whispered the dreadful words over to herself and all her delight and pleasure vanished. These men, even the kind Captain Harlow, whom the Hastings liked so well, would try their best to capture the young French Republican, America’s best friend, and take him to England a prisoner. Ruth could think of nothing else. She wondered if perhaps there was not already some plan by which Lafayette would be captured. She was very silent all the remainder of the afternoon, and Betty decided that Ruth must be tired.

But they all thanked the captain very politely for their pleasant visit, as he helped them from the boat and walked with them to Mrs. Hastings’ door. Ruth was eager to get home. She meant to ask her mother if she might not go to Barren Hill very soon, perhaps to-morrow. It seemed to her she could hardly wait that long; for who could tell what the English soldiers might do before warning could reach Lafayette?

For Ruth had made a great resolve: she would try to let Lafayette know that the English General meant to do his best to take him a prisoner to England. Once at Barren Hill Ruth was sure that she could find some way to reach Washington’s camp and warn the young Frenchman.