ed," sighed Betty, whose brave heart was beginning to quail
at thought of an untold length of separation from her beloved family. "I
should think the hearts of the patriots imprisoned in New York would
scarce be occupied with balls in such times as these."

"You mistake," said Pamela, who, truth to tell, half longed for Betty's
opportunities, for was not her sister going somewhere near Josiah's
post? "I am sure Clarissa's letter which you read me bade you bring all
your best gowns and finery, and we have all heard how gay the army of
occupation make the city."

"Aye, to those who are Tories," said Betty, with curling red lips, "but
for me--oh, Miss Bidwell, if you put in another pair of stockings I
shall require as many feet as a centipede, who I read has hundreds of
them."

"Hundreds of feet?" echoed Miss Moppet. "Oh, Betty, do I live to hear
you tell a fairy tale as if it were real?"

"Read your primer, and you will learn many wonderful things," quoth
Betty, snatching up the child in her arms. "I shall take you straightway
to bed, for we must be up betimes in the morning, you know."

Very carefully and tenderly did Betty bathe Moppet's sweet little face,
comb and smooth the pretty curling hair, so like her own save in color,
and then run the brass warming-pan, heated by live coals, through the
sheets lest her tender body suffer even a slight chill. And when Moppet
was safely lodged in bed Betty sat down beside her to hold her hand
until she dropped asleep. But between excitement and grief the child's
eyes would not close, and she asked question after question, until Betty
finally announced she should answer no more.

Moppet lay still for some moments, and just as Betty was beginning to
fancy that the long, dark eyelashes worn curling downward in sleepy
comfort the dark blue eyes opened, and a dancing imp of mischief gleamed
from their depths in Betty's face.

"When you meet Captain Yorke, Betty," whispered Moppet, "be sure you
tell him how Oliver and Josiah hunted and hunted that morning, and how I
never, never told"--

"Moppet," said Betty, turning a vivid pink in the firelight, "how can
you!"--

"Yes," pursued Moppet relentlessly, "and you give him my love--heaps of
it--and I just hope he may never get taken a prisoner during the whole
war again."

"Go to sleep, dear," answered Betty, biting her lip; but her cheeks did
not grow cool until long after the soft, regular breathing told that her
little siste