white apron.

"Ruth!" Andy flushed hotly.

"I have sprained my ankle," Ruth explained with an assumed whimper, "and
poor Hans is about distracted. He is afraid to go peddling alone with
his secret writ large in both Dutch and English on his foolish face. I
have told him I will go lame or no lame. Fortunately he is hard of
hearing and stupid as an owl in broad daylight. You might be less like
me than you are, and Hans would not know. We have much to be thankful
for, Andy."

"Ruth, I cannot!"

"Andy, you shall!" They looked into each other's eyes and then because
they were young and brave, they smiled; smiled above the danger and
heartache.

[Illustration: "IT TOOK ALL OF ANDY'S COURAGE TO DON THE FEMALE
ATTIRE."]

"What a girl you are!" laughed Andy.

"Yes, there are few like me," sighed the girl. "Born to trouble as the
sparks fly upward."

"Born to deliver others from trouble, I verily believe," added Andy.

"Not a moment to spare!" commanded Ruth. "You have eaten a noble meal. I
must go to my room to suffer now. When Hans bawls from the wagon, be
ready, and remember the eggs are a shilling more to his majesty's men
than to Washington's."

It took all Andy's courage to don the female attire. He had never done
so hard a thing, yet he knew that Ruth was right. If he hoped to reach
the patriot camp he must not attempt it as Andy McNeal. "Next best
then," he thought, "is to go as Ruth White. God bless Ruth!"

"Hi!" rose shrilly on the soft evening air, "hi! we starts now!"

It was Hans bellowing from the wagon. Andy plunged into the bonnet,
whose big, flapping frill almost hid his face. He took his crutch--its
aid was not to be despised now--and hobbled down-stairs.

"Washington is in the Morris Mansion!" Ruth whispered as he passed her
door.

Under his sunbonnet Andy turned scarlet, but he did not turn toward
Ruth.

"There goes our Ruthie to sell eggs," called little Margaret White from
over her bowl of milk in the kitchen. "Does your leg hurt awful,
Ruthie?"

Mrs. White at the table did not turn, but she said:

"Take heed, Margaret, your milk is spilling. Ruth is all right." As in
very truth she was.

"We be late, already," called Hans from his wagon. "Can you get up,
miss?"

Andy mounted slowly, and crouched behind Hans among the baskets and
pails. The Dutch boy had but recently come over from Long Island to live
with the parson. After the battle of Long Island he had fled to what he
thought