CHAPTER I
HERO IS LOST
"Where do you suppose Hero can be, Aunt Deborah? He isn't anywhere aboutthe house, or in the shed or the garden," and Ruth Pernell's voicesounded as if she could hardly keep back the tears as she stood in thedoorway of the pleasant kitchen where Aunt Deborah was at work.
"Do you suppose the British have taken him?" she asked a littlefearfully; for it was the spring of 1778, when the British troops werein Philadelphia, and Ruth was quite sure that every English soldier whosaw Hero must want him for his own. The dog was her dearest possession.On her tenth birthday, nearly a year before, her father had given herHero for a birthday present; and now that her father was withWashington's army his gift seemed even more precious to his littledaughter.
Aunt Deborah looked at Ruth for a moment before she answered, and Ruthbecame conscious that her brown hair was rough and untidy from runningabout the garden in the March wind, that her hands were not clean, andthat there was an ugly rent in her blue checked apron where it hadcaught on a nail in the shed.
"Was it not yesterday that thee declared Hero was stolen, only to findthat he had followed Winifred Merrill home? And on Sunday, thee was surehe had been killed, because he did not appear the first time theecalled," responded Aunt Deborah reprovingly. Aunt Deborah was not verylarge, and her smooth round face under the neat cap, such as Quakerwomen wear, was usually smiling and friendly; but it always seemed toRuth that no least bit of dirt or untidiness ever escaped those grayeyes.
"Do you suppose he is at Winifred's? I wish she wouldn't let him followher," and Ruth's tone was troubled. Of course Winifred was her dearestfriend, but Ruth was not willing that Hero should divide his loyalty.
"Very likely," responded Aunt Deborah, "but thee must smooth thy hair,wash thy hands and change thy apron before thee goes to inquire; and puton thy hat. It is not seemly for a girl to run about the streetbareheaded."
"Oh, Aunt Deborah! Only to go next door!" pleaded Ruth, but Aunt Deborahonly nodded; so Ruth went to her own room and in a few minutes was backtying the broad brown ribbons of her hat under her chin as she ranthrough the kitchen.
"I do hope Mother will come home soon," the little girl thought as shewent down the front steps to the street; "Aunt Deborah is so fussy."
Mrs. Pernell had been away for a week caring for her sister who lived inGermantown, near Philadelphia, and who was ill; and Aunt Deborah MaryFarleigh had come in from her home at Barren Hill, twelve miles distant,to stay with Ruth during Mrs. Pernell's absence.
As Ruth ran up the steps of her friend's house the front door opened,and Winifred appeared.
"Oh, Ruthie! Where are you going?" she asked smilingly.
Winifred was just a month older than Ruth, and they were very nearly thesame size. They both had blue eyes; but Ruth's hair was of a darkerbrown than Winifred's. They had both attended the same school until LordCornwallis with his troops entered Philadelphia; since that time eachlittle girl had been taught at home.
"Is Hero here?" Ruth asked, hardly noticing her friend's question.
Winifred shook her head.
"Are you _sure_, Winifred? Perhaps he ran in your garden and you didn'tsee him," said Ruth.
"Well, we'll see. We'll call him," Winifred replied, holding the dooropen for Ruth to come in.
The Merrill and Pernell houses were separated by a high brick wall, andeach house stood near the street with broad gardens on each side as wellas at the rear.
The two friends went through the house, and out on a narrow porch andRuth called, "Hero! Hero!" but there was no welcoming bark, no sight ofthe brown shepherd dog. They went about the yard calling, and Winifred'solder brother Gilbert, who was preparing a garden bed near the furtherwall, assured them that the dog had not been there that morning.
"Then he is lost! What shall I do!" said Ruth despairingly. "I dobelieve the English have taken him. Only yesterday, on Second Street,when Aunt Deborah and I were coming home, an officer patted him andcalled him a 'fine dog,'" she continued quickly.
Gilbert and Winifred both looked very serious at this statement. Gilbertwas fourteen years old. He was tall for his age, and thought himselfquite old enough to be a soldier; but as his father and elder brotherwere both in Washington's army he realized that he must stay at home andtake care of his mother and Winifred.
"I have a mind to go straight to High Street and tell General Howe,"said Ruth, "for I heard my mother say that the English general would notpermit his soldiers to take what did not belong to them."
Gilbert shook his head soberly.
"That may be true; but you are not sure that your dog has been stolen,"he said. "You had best wait a while. Hero may have wandered off and maycome home safely. I'd not ask any favors of America's enemies," heconcluded, picking up his spade and turning back to his work.
"It wouldn't be a favor to ask for what belonged to me," Ruth answeredsharply. But Gilbert's words made her more hopeful; Winifred was surethat Gilbert was right, and that Hero would come safely home.
"Come up to my room, Ruthie; Mother has given me her scrap-bag. I canhave all the pieces of silk and chintz to make things for my dolls, andyou can pick out something to make your Cecilia a bonnet, and perhaps acape."
"Oh! Truly, Winifred?" responded Ruth, almost forgetting Hero in thistempting offer. The two little girls ran up the broad stairway toWinifred's room, which was at the back of the house overlooking thegarden. The two windows had broad window-seats, and on one of these, ina small chair, made of stiff pasteboard and covered with a floweredchintz, sat "Josephine," Winifred's most treasured doll. Josephine worea very full skirt of crimson silk, a cape of the same material, and onher head rested a bonnet of white silk, on the front of which was a tallwhite feather. There were two smaller dolls, and each occupied a chairexactly like the one in which Josephine was seated, but neither of themwas so beautifully dressed.
"I made that bonnet myself," Winifred declared, as Ruth knelled downbeside the dolls and exclaimed admiringly over Josephine's fine apparel."And that feather is one that came floating into our garden. Gilbertsays it's an eagle's feather," she continued.
"It is lovely!" Ruth said, "and this window is the nicest place to playdolls in all Philadelphia. And these dolls' chairs are splendid. I wishI had one for Cecilia."
"Well, why don't you make one? I helped Grandma make these. All you haveto do is cut the pieces out of cardboard, cover them with cloth, and sewthem together. I'll help you," said Winifred, as she opened a closetdoor and drew out a brown linen bag.
"This is the scrap-bag. Look, Ruthie;" and she drew out a long strip ofplaided silk.
"That would make a lovely sash for Cecilia," said Ruth, "but of courseit would be nice for Josephine," she added quickly, half-afraid that shehad seemed grasping of Winifred's possessions.
"Josephine doesn't like a sash," said Winifred. "You take it home andtell Cecilia it's a present from Aunt Winifred."
Then there was a roll of small pieces of pale blue satin; just right tomake a bonnet for Ruth's doll.
For some time the little girls played happily with the bright pieces ofsilk, selecting bits for one or the other of the dolls, so that when thebig clock in the hall struck twelve Ruth jumped up in surprise.
"Oh, Winnie! It's dinner-time! What will Aunt Deborah say to me?" sheexclaimed, putting on her hat, and gathering up the silk pieces.
"Thank you, Winnie! I must run. Aunt Deborah doesn't like me to be late,ever," she said, hurrying toward the stairway.
"Come over to-morrow and I'll help you make a doll's chair; and I hopeyou'll find Hero safe at home," Winifred called after her as Ruth randown the stairs.
At Winifred's words all Ruth's pleasure in the morning's play, in thepretty bits of silk for her dolls, and the plan for making the chairs,vanished. Hero was lost; she knew he was. With his silky coat, and hisfaithful, soft brown eyes, his eager bark of welcome when his littlemistress came running into the garden for a game of hide-and-go-seekwith him.
; Aunt Deborah had spread the table for dinner, which was one of Ruth'sregular duties; and when Ruth came slowly into the room she was justbringing in a dish of baked potatoes hot from the oven.
"I didn't find Hero," said Ruth, throwing her little package of silks ona chair and then her hat on top of it. "What shall I do, Aunt Deborah?What shall I do? I am sure one of those English soldiers has taken him,"and now Ruth began to cry.
"Ruth! Stop thy foolish crying. Thy dinner is waiting. Go to thy roomand make thyself tidy," commanded Aunt Deborah, "and take thy hat andpackage," she added.
Ruth obeyed rather reluctantly. "All Aunt Deborah thinks about iskeeping 'tidy,'" she whispered rebelliously as she left the room. "I'vewashed my hands three times already to-day. She doesn't care if Hero islost. Probably she's glad, because his paws are dirty."
But Ruth was mistaken; Aunt Deborah had spent an hour that morning ingoing up and down the alley looking for the missing dog, and in acareful search of the house and garden. She valued Hero's faithfulness;and not even Ruth herself would have been more pleased than Aunt Deborahto hear his bark, and see him jump forward from his usual playground inthe garden.
"Perhaps Hero has wandered off," Aunt Deborah said when Ruth took herplace at the table, "but he will come back, I doubt not, beforenightfall."
"If he doesn't I shall go and tell the British General that he must findhim," declared Ruth, somewhat to Aunt Deborah's amusement; who was quitesure that the little girl would not dare to approach General Howe, whohad comfortably established himself in one of the fine houses on HighStreet.