nce that it was the same that she had seen on the cape and in the
letter in Mistress Brace's little trunk.

"What could it mean?" Sally dreaded to know, because the name was
plainly a French one. She had no love or liking for British soldiers,
still less for a French soldier who would take up arms against her own
dear land.

"For it _shall be_ my own dear land," she said, the determined cleft
settling in her chin.

But small time there was to spend over mysteries or hidden things. War
had begun, and her Prince at Ingleside must fight his nearest friends if
to battle he would go.

"I would that I could help thee, Fairy Prince!" she cried in her heart.

Did some kind Spirit hear her prayer?

Three days later, toward the close of afternoon Sally went toward the
woodsy place and the pine-trees she had long loved.

She went to the other side of the great oak and sat down on the moss,
her back against the tree. She could not easily be seen from the narrow
path as she thus sat cosily curled.

"They say"--she caught her breath--"that on the morrow morn, there goeth
forth with Reginald Bromfeld, my Fairy Prince, Leon Sutcliff, Edward
Byrd, Hugh Spottswood, and others to join the forces at Boston, so sure
are all the people that great strife is at hand in that quarter. And
very swiftly are they to press forward, hoping to be in time for it.

"I must get a look at my Fairy Prince in the morning. He will not hear
me bid him 'Godspeed,' but Godspeed I shall bid him with all my heart."

She stood up, intending to walk on, but at a little turn in the thicket
road farther on, she saw three horsemen slowly advancing. They wore
light riding-coats, which had concealed the scarlet coats of the king's
men, but these outer garments were now thrown open, showing clearly the
colors beneath them. Sally at once sat down again, huddling herself
close at the back of the oak, hoping not to be seen as they rode by in
single file.

On coming near, the first man turned in his saddle to answer a remark of
one of his fellows.

"I will hold," he exclaimed, softly, "that I liked it not his keeping so
still. It would have served me better had he kicked or shown temper as I
expected."

"What good would that have done?" asked the other, stopping his horse a
moment, that seemed well spent.

"No good," answered the first man; "but it was a dirty piece of work at
best. I would that Sir Percival could have found another way of keeping
back his