ently
that she had thrown the pursuit skillfully off his track. When at last
she fell into a doze it was nearly seven o'clock in the morning, and
Miranda, who softly entered the room, bringing fresh water, halted at
the pillow, loth to waken her.

"Mistress Betty," she whispered. No reply, but the sleeper turned
uneasily, and then opened her eyes. "I certainly do hate to call you,
but jes' look here; what you say for dat, little missy?" and Miranda
held up a letter. "Dat was left wif me at daybreak by de young boy who
came wif Sambo--missy knows who I mean,"--rolling her eyes fearfully
around the room,--"and he said tell you that Jim Bates, of Breucklen
Heights, had tole him to fetch it to you."

Betty seized the package; it consisted of a half-sheet of paper which
inclosed a letter, doubled over and sealed with wax in the fashion of
the day.

"I am safely across the river," wrote Oliver on the outer sheet, "and
send this to ease your mind and Kitty's. Moppet's letter came to me
inside one from my father by private hand a few days since, on chance of
my being able to give it you. My service in the city is over, my object
attained; hereafter I shall be on duty with our troops. God be with you
till we meet again."

Betty broke the seal of her letter and between sobs and laughter
deciphered the queer pot-hooks and printed letters with which Miss
Moppet had covered the pages. Dear little Moppet; Betty could almost see
the frowns and puckered brow with which the child had penned the words.

"My Betty dear," the letter ran, "we miss you sorely, especially the
Mare and me. She whinnies when I seek the Stable, and I was going to say
I cry too, but never mind." (This was partly erased, but Betty made it
out.) "It is so cold the Chickens are kept in the kitchen at night lest
they freeze. We hope it may thaw soon, as we Desire to get the maple
syrup from the trees. Aunt Euphemia is well. Miss Bidwell is still
knitting Socks for our poor soldiers, and I made Half of one, but the
Devil tempted me with Bad temper and I threw it on the Fire, for which
I was well Punished. Pamela cries much; I do not see why she is so
Silly. Sally Tracy is the only merry one, now you are away; she spends
too much, time, to my thinking, reading and walking with a young
Gentleman who comes from Branford. I have not yet learned how to spell
his Name, but you may Guess who I mean. When are you coming home, Betty?
I want so to see your dear face. My R