s the author of this cut on my head. Do you belong to the British
army or are you a volunteer accompanying Tryon in his raid upon our
innocent and unoffending neighbors at Fairfield?"

"Sir," said the other haughtily, "I pardon much to your youthful
patriotism, which looks upon us as invaders. My name is Geoffrey Yorke,
and I have the honor to bear his majesty's commission as captain in the
Sixty-fourth Regiment of Foot."

Betty gave a faint exclamation. Oliver Wolcott stepped forward.

"Captain Yorke," he said, "I regret more than I can say my inability,
which you yourself will recognize, to bid you go forth free and in
safety. My duty is unfortunately but too plain. I, sir, serve the
Continental Congress, and like you hold a captain's commission. I should
be false alike to my country and my oath of allegiance did I permit you
to escape; but there is one favor I can offer you; give me your parole,
and allow me and my family the pleasure of holding you as a guest, not
prisoner, while under our roof."

Geoffrey Yorke hesitated; he opened his lips to speak, when some
instinct made him glance at Betty, who stood directly behind her
brother. Her large, soft eyes were fixed on his with most beseeching
warning, and she raised her dainty finger to her lips as she slowly,
almost imperceptibly, shook her head.

"Captain Wolcott," he said, "I fully appreciate your kindness and the
motive which prompts it. I have landed on these shores but one short
month ago, and Sir Henry Clinton ordered me--but these particulars will
not interest you. I thank you for your offer, but I decline to take
parole, and prefer instead the fortunes of war."

"Then, sir, I have no choice," said Oliver. "Aunt Euphemia, will you
permit me to use the north chamber? I will conduct you there, Captain
Yorke, and shall see that you are well guarded for the night." And with
a courtly bow to the ladies Geoffrey Yorke followed his captain from the
room, as Moppet threw herself into Betty's arms and sobbed bitterly.

CHAPTER IV

FRIEND OR FOE

Betty Wolcott sat alone in her own room, thinking intently. The windows
were all open, and the soft night air blew the dainty curls off her
white forehead and disclosed the fact of her very recent tears. Never,
in all her short, happy life, had Betty been so moved as now, for the
twin passions of gratitude and loyalty were at war within her, and she
realized, with a feeling akin to dismay, that she must meet