"I have left it there, Andy, and from the joy and gladness I have felt, I believe there was nothing else to do. But this lameness, oh, Andy!"

"How did it happen?"

"Just as the lie did, Andy. This is a bodily lie."

"I do not understand, Ruth."

"Eat, and I will explain." Andy began mechanically. He must be ready for his task in any case. Food was the first step.

"I have been reading the Bible to the children, Andy. They wanted the story of David. As I read it seemed as if you were like David. When he went to meet Goliath, how impossible his victory seemed, but the hand that swung the sling was strong enough to win the day. Andy," Ruth bent toward him, her face glowing, "you are strong enough to win against your Goliath!"

"Mine?"

"Yes; all the king's men! You will get to Washington before another day is pa.s.sed. But--you must let me help you."

Andy set the cup of milk down and stared at the earnest face.

"I'm very dull," he said. "I only know that I must go. I do not see, now, that you can help."

"You must not think of going abroad as Andy McNeal," the girl explained.

"They are watching for you. Janie says that more than one Britisher has been to her door."

"Do you know--" Andy began.

"Yes," nodded Ruth, "but he is well hidden. It is you they are after.

Then, too, I know what the British expect to do. Hans Brickman found out and he is almost frightened to death with his secret. He thinks the British will see his secret written all over him, and he is afraid to go into camp--the patriot camp, you know. He has honey and b.u.t.ter to sell, and he sells to friend or foe. I've told him I will go with him to-night."

"What secret?" asked Andy, keen to the main point.

"The British war-ships are going up the river!" Ruth was whispering in Andy's ear, not daring to trust her voice even in the little room.

"Father says the General does not expect this move, but they are getting ready down by the Battery. Father says the forts cannot stand a river attack."

"But Washington _must_ know this. He never is taken off guard." Andy spoke proudly and with a.s.surance.

"Well, any way," said Ruth, "he is preparing for a land attack. It is common talk."

"Just a blind!" Andy broke in. But his face was troubled. "However, I must get these papers to him, and if I can I will speak to him. It can do no harm."

"But you cannot go as you are, Andy."

"How then?"

"Why," Ruth went to the door and dragged in a bundle, "in these!" She held up one of her own dresses, a big sunbonnet, and a neat white ap.r.o.n.

"Ruth!" Andy flushed hotly.

"I have sprained my ankle," Ruth explained with an a.s.sumed 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "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 n.o.ble 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. G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 were more peaceful pastures for employment; but he had his doubts. Dangers pursued Hans, and he was sore distressed. It was necessary for him to sell the products of the little farm, and, really, the danger of the parson's daughter going along to straighten matters out, was no great matter. Peddlers, unless suspected, were allowed to pa.s.s the lines, and their wares paid for with more or less honesty.

CHAPTER VIII

AT HEADQUARTERS

"Your excellency, dar am a lame girl, an a fool Dutchman outside. De girl done say, she's got to delibber de eggs to yourself, sah!"

"Eggs!" The tall, anxious man at the table turned sharply. He was writing to Congress, and the interruption annoyed him.

"Yas, sah." The colored man bowed humbly. "I'se been tellin' dem we has eggs nouf, but the Dutchman he deaf as a stun wall, an' de girl am dat sot, dat your own self couldn't be sotter, sah. She done say her folks 'prived demselfs of food an' drink, sah, to save dese eggs fur your excellency, an' she goes on tu say, sah, dat she done been habbin' de debbil's own time gettin' past de lines wid de eggs. She's been 'sulted by de British and odder hard things. She won't go, sah, till I done tell you all dis rubbish."

"Bring her in," quietly said the listener.

Washington never slighted the humble, and, besides, messages were sent in odd ways. It was always better to be willing to listen. The black man departed, muttering, and presently returned, showing the lame girl in with no very good grace.