Brandywine since Third Day last, and thy father and I will ride to
Chester to-day, that there may be other than corn-cakes and baron for
the friends who come to us after monthly meeting. Mind thee keeps near
the house and finishes thy sampler."

"Yes, mother," said Betty; "but will thee not come home early? I shall
miss thee sadly."

Just then Ezra appeared, wearing his collarless Quaker coat, and leading
a horse saddled with a great pillion, into which Ann laboriously climbed
after her husband, and with a final warning and "farewell" to Betty,
clasped him tightly around the waist lest she should be jolted off as
they jogged down the rough and winding lane into the broad Chester
highway.

Friend Ann had many reasons for fearing to leave Betty alone for a whole
day, and she looked back anxiously at her waving "farewell" with her
little bonnet.

It was a troublous time.

The Revolution was at its height, and the British, who had a short time
before disembarked their army near Elkton, Maryland, were now encamped
near White Clay Creek, while Washington occupied the country bordering
on the Brandywine. His force, however, was small compared to the extent
of the country to be guarded, and bands of the British sometimes crossed
the Brandywine and foraged in the fertile counties of Delaware and
Chester. As Betty's father, although a Quaker and a non-combatant, was
known to be a patriot, he had to suffer the fortunes of war with his
neighbors.

Thus it was with many forebodings that Betty's mother watched the slight
figure under the spreading branches of a great chestnut, which seemed to
rustle its innumerable leaves as if to promise protection to the little
maid. However, the sun shone brightly, the swallows chirped as they
circled overhead, and nothing seemed farther off than battle and
bloodshed.

Betty skipped merrily into the house, and snatching up some broken
corn-cake left from the morning meal, ran lightly out to the paddock
where Daisy was kept, her own horse, which she had helped to raise from
a colt.

"Come thee here, Daisy," she said, as she seated herself on the top rail
of the mossy snake fence. "Come thee here, and thee shall have some of
thy mistress's corn-cake. Ah! I thought thee would like it. Now go and
eat all thee can of this good grass, for if the wicked redcoats come
again, thee will not have another chance, I can tell thee."

Daisy whinnied and trotted off, while Betty, feeding the few chick