and Betty's most roguish smile beamed into Yorke's eyes as she
wheeled toward him. "Perhaps you will try a race with me, Captain
Yorke?"

"With pleasure, and for what stakes?" returned Yorke, bending down to
secure a strap which he felt loosen.

"I meant but a trial of speed to the bridge there, where we cross the
Minetta Water. A stake? Well, name it."

"A knot of rose-colored ribbon," said Yorke softly.

"Another!" cried Betty unguardedly, and could have promptly bitten her
tongue for the betrayal of her thought.

"Ah, then you do remember?" asked Yorke. "In what have I so deeply
offended that I can scarce gain speech of you! Why do you flout one who
longs to show you his devotion?"

"You forget, sir," said Betty coldly, "the coat you wear. Do you fancy
that scarlet commends itself to a rebel maid like me, or that the cause
you represent can be aught but hateful to a loyal Wolcott?"

"Betty, Betty! I do beseech you"--

"Nay, we will put entreaty outside the question. A race, I think I said,
Captain Yorke. I will make the stake that self-same bow of
rose-color--if you have kept it so long."

An indignant flush dyed Yorke's face. "So be it," he said briefly, and
in a flash they were off; she, graceful, and almost like a winged bird,
as she sped along; and he, tall, straight, and muscular, with a long,
staying stroke, which impelled Betty's admiration. The distance to the
bridge was a good half mile, and the spectators on the hill presently
perceived the racing pair, and from the cries and shouts which arose she
learned, to her added chagrin, that they were seen, and their trial of
speed would be eagerly followed. On flew Betty, so intent upon reaching
her goal that she never noticed how Yorke crept closer and closer; they
were almost to the bridge, when his voice sounded at her shoulder:--

"You should have the race, sweetheart, but I cannot part with the
ribbon," and with a sudden rush Yorke darted past her and gained the
bridge barely three seconds in advance.

"Forgive me," he had time to whisper, as Betty stood still, with
flashing eyes and half-quivering lip, while they waited for Peter,
Kitty, and Philip Livingston, who had followed them down the course;
"'twas too dear a stake for me to lose." But as the words left his lips,
to his astonishment and delight, with all a child's frankness, Betty
gave him her hand.

"Nay, you won the race fairly, and Betty Wolcott craves your pardon."

"Oh, my eye!" s