now.

"We need many things, but I fear 'twill not be easy to purchase either good cotton cloth or a package of pepper," Aunt Deborah said as they turned on to Second Street. "There was but little in the shops when the British came, and of that little they have taken for themselves so there is not much left for the people."

"They have taken Hero, I know they have!" Ruth replied. "I wish Washington would come and drive the English out."

"Oh! Ho! So here is a small rebel declaring treason right to the face of an officer of the King!" and Ruth, surprised and frightened, felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to find a tall soldier in a red coat with shining buttons and bands of gilt looking at her with evident amusement.

"You had best whisper such words as those, young lady," he added sternly, and passed on, leaving Ruth and Aunt Deborah standing surprised and half-frightened.

"This is an American city," Aunt Deborah announced calmly, as they walked on. "These intruders can stay but a time. But they have sharp ears, indeed. Does thee know why thy father named thy dog 'Hero'?" she continued, looking down at Ruth.

"Oh, yes! Father said 'hero' meant courage and honor; and so it was the right name for such a fine dog," Ruth answered quickly. "Aunt Deborah! What was that?" she added, stopping short. For she had heard a familiar bark.

But Aunt Deborah had heard nothing. They were passing a house where a number of soldiers were sitting on the porch smoking.

"I heard Hero bark. He is in that house," Ruth declared, and before Aunt Deborah could say a word to prevent such a rash act Ruth had run up the steps.

"Have you found a lost dog, if you please?" she asked, half-frightened, when she found herself facing two red-faced soldiers who looked at her as if she were some wild bird that had flown to the porch. Before they could reply Aunt Deborah's hand was on Ruth's arm, and the little girl heard her aunt saying: "Thee must pardon the child. She has lost her dog, and is greatly troubled. She means no harm."

The younger of the two men stood up and bowed politely, and held his hat in his hand until Aunt Deborah had led Ruth back to the street; but neither of the men had answered her question.

"Oh, Aunt Deborah! What made you? I know Hero is in that house. I heard him bark. You spoiled it all," sobbed Ruth, as Aunt Deborah, holding her fast by the hand, hurried toward home, quite forgetting the errands she wished to do.

Aunt Deborah sighed to herself. She began to fear that Ruth was a difficult child; and that perhaps she did not know the right way to deal with little girls. But she did not reprove Ruth either for her rash act or for speaking with so little regard of Aunt Deborah's authority.

"May I go in and see Winifred?" Ruth asked when they reached home, and Aunt Deborah gave her permission.

"Oh, Winifred! I know where Hero is," Ruth declared, as the two friends went up to Winifred's room, and she hastened to tell the adventures of the walk with Aunt Deborah.

"I am going back after him, Winifred, and you must come with me," she concluded.

But Winifred said that her mother was out, and that she must not leave the house until her return. She looked at Ruth admiringly.

"I think you were brave, Ruth, to ask those soldiers. But I don't believe they would give you back Hero if you do go back. Perhaps they would make you a prisoner," she said a little fearfully; and at last Ruth reluctantly agreed not to go after the dog that day. The little girls decided that the best way would be to go straight to General Howe and tell him that one of his soldiers had taken Hero, and was keeping him from his rightful owner.

"I'll go to-morrow. But we must not let Aunt Deborah know," said Ruth, and Winifred promised to keep the plan a secret.

Now that there seemed a hope of rescuing her dog Ruth was nearly her own happy self again. Winifred got out some squares of pasteboard and very carefully marked out patterns of the back and sides, as well as for the seat, for the dolls' chair. Then she went to find Gilbert to borrow his knife with which to cut the cardboard; and before Ruth started for home the pieces were all ready to be covered. As the two little friends sat in the pleasant window-seat Winifred said: "What do you think, Ruthie! Gilbert wants to change his name. He wants us to call him Lafayette!" and Winifred laughed, as if she thought the idea very funny.

"Why, I think that is splendid!" Ruth replied, her blue eyes shining at the thought of a "Lafayette" next door to her own home. For all the children of Philadelphia knew the story of the brave young Frenchman, hardly more than a boy himself, who had left all the comforts of his Paris home to share the danger and privations of the American soldiers. He had visited Philadelphia the previous summer, 1777, soon after his arrival in America. Gilbert had seen the handsome young officer, and ever since then he had pleaded that he might be called "Lafayette" instead of Gilbert.

"If I were a boy I should wish my name 'Lafayette,'" declared Ruth. "I wish we could do something for him, don't you, Winifred?"

"Yes; but what could two little girls do for him? Why, he is a hero, and a friend of Washington's," Winifred responded. Neither Ruth nor Winifred imagined that it would be only a few months before one of them would do a great service for the gallant young Frenchman.

Aunt Deborah was unusually quiet in her manner toward her little niece when Ruth came home with the cardboard ready to be covered. She did not ask Ruth to set the table for supper, but began to spread the cloth herself.

"I will do that, Aunt Deborah. You know I always do," Ruth said, laying down the parts for the dolls' chair, and coming toward the table.

"I will do it. Thou mayst go to thy room, Ruth; I will call thee when supper is ready," Aunt Deborah replied, without a glance at the little girl.

Ruth felt her face flush uncomfortably as she suddenly recalled the way in which she had spoken to Aunt Deborah after her aunt had led her away from the porch where the English soldiers were sitting, and where Ruth was sure Hero was hidden. She went up the stairs very slowly to her own chamber, a small room opening from the large front room where Aunt Deborah slept. She sat down near the window, feeling not only ashamed but very unhappy.

"If my mother were only here I shouldn't be sent off up-stairs. I don't like Aunt Deborah," she exclaimed, and looked up to see her aunt standing in the doorway.

For a moment the two looked at each other, and Ruth could see that Aunt Deborah was trying very hard to keep back the tears. Then the door closed, very softly, and Ruth was again alone.

"Oh, dear," she whispered, "and I promised my mother to do everything I could to help Aunt Deborah, and now she heard me say that I don't like her," and Ruth leaned her head against the arm of the big chair in which she had curled up and began to cry, quite sure that no little girl in all Philadelphia had as much reason for unhappiness as herself.

After a little she wiped her eyes, and began to think over her misfortunes: First of all, Hero was lost. Then came all the troubles that, it seemed to Ruth, Aunt Deborah was to blame for. As she said them over to herself they appeared sufficient reasons for her dislike: "She is always fussing. Always telling me to