Ruth slept late the next morning, and when she first awoke it was with the puzzled feeling of waking from a bad dream. Then slowly she remembered the happenings of the previous day.

The spring sunlight filled the room. From a hawthorn tree just below her window she could hear a robin singing as if there were nothing but sunshine and delight in all the world. And then the big clock in the hallway began to strike. "One! two! three! four! five! six! seven! eight! Nine!" counted the little girl, and with the last stroke she was out of bed.

Before she was dressed Aunt Deborah opened the door.

"Good-morning, Ruth," she said pleasantly, quite as if nothing had happened on the previous day, and that Ruth had not slept two hours later than usual. "I have brought thee thy breakfast; and thee may stay in thy room until I call thee," and Aunt Deborah set a small tray on the light stand near the window, and before Ruth could make any response she had left the room.

Ruth was very hungry. She had no supper on the previous night, and she now looked eagerly toward the little tray, which held only, a bowl and pitcher. The bowl was nearly full of porridge, and the pitcher of creamy milk.

That was all very well; and she ate it all, to the last spoonful. But usually there were hot corn muffins and a bit of bacon or an egg to follow the porridge, and Ruth was still hungry.

"Perhaps Aunt Deborah forgot," thought Ruth, "but I don't believe she did. Perhaps she is only provoked at me for being late for breakfast!"

Ruth shook up her pillows, turned back the blankets of her bed, and then went to the window and leaned out. There were two robins now on the top branch of the hawthorn, and for a moment she watched them, wondering if they were planning to build a nest there. The window overlooked the Merrills' garden; and in a few minutes Ruth saw Gilbert coming along the path toward the wall.

"Lafayette! La-fay-ette!" she called. Gilbert looked about as if puzzled, and Ruth called again. "I'm up-stairs. Gil-bert!" and at this the boy turned and looked up, and waved his hat in response.

"I've found Hero," she called. "Honest! And an English officer is going to bring him home this very morning."

"Come on over and tell Winifred," responded Gilbert. "She has something to tell you, too. Something fine."

"I can't come over this morning. I——" but before Ruth could say another word she felt a firm hand on her shoulder, and she was drawn into the room and the window closed, and Aunt Deborah was looking at her reprovingly.

"Ruth, why did thee think I wanted thee to stay up-stairs this morning?" she asked.

Ruth shook her head sullenly. She said to herself that no matter what Aunt Deborah might say she would not answer.

"Well, my child, then I must tell thee. I hoped thee would think over thy wilfulness of yesterday; that thee would realize that thy conduct was such as would grieve and shame thy father and mother. Dost thou think it a small thing nearly to ruin thy mother's best gown? To go dressed as if in a play to the house of an enemy of thy country to ask a favor? And before that thee quite forgot thy good manners in rushing up the steps of that house on Second Street, and then speaking rudely to me, who have no wish but to be kind to thee and help thee be a good girl."

While Aunt Deborah was speaking Ruth looked up at her, a little frightened and sullen at first; then as she saw that Aunt Deborah's face was pale, that she looked as if she had been crying and was nearly ready to cry again, the little girl's heart softened, and she ran toward her aunt, saying:

"Oh, Aunt Deborah! I am sorry I spoke rudely to you. And when I said I did not like you it was only because I was cross and so unhappy about Hero. I do like you, truly I do. And, oh! I did not think about General Howe being our enemy; or that I would spoil Mother's pretty gown. I only thought about Hero." And now Ruth was sobbing, and Aunt Deborah's arm was about her.

But for a moment Aunt Deborah made no response; then she said:

"Dear child, thee has given me happiness again. And now let us both do our best until thy mother returns. But thee knows that it is right for thee to decide if thee should not be punished in some way, so that in future thee will remember not to lose thy temper, to remember thy manners; and above all not to stoop to deceit to gain thy wishes."

Aunt Deborah smiled happily at her little niece as she finished, as if quite sure that Ruth would welcome her suggestion.

Ruth smiled in response. She began to think it would be rather fine to decide on her own punishment, and resolved it should be even more severe than any Aunt Deborah would inflict.

"Yes, Aunt Deborah, I will stay up-stairs all day. And I will eat only porridge for my dinner and supper. I will not call from the window, and I will knit; and not even play with Cecilia," she said eagerly.

"Very well, dear child. But beside these things thee must say over to thyself the reason for thy punishment. Say to thyself: 'Not again will I be rude or unkind, not again will I be thoughtless of my behavior,'" said Aunt Deborah approvingly.

There was a loud knock at the front door, and Aunt Deborah hurried away to answer it. In a moment Ruth heard a joyous bark.

"It's Hero! It's Hero!" she exclaimed, running toward the door. But with her hand on the latch she stopped suddenly. She had promised that she would not leave the room that day. She had set her own punishment for rudeness, and for the thoughtlessness that had perhaps ruined her mother's dress.

"Oh! I wish I hadn't dressed up," she thought, as she turned slowly away from the door, thinking of Hero looking wistfully about for his little mistress. She knew that Aunt Deborah would be kind to him, but not to see Hero after he had been missing so long was a real punishment for the little girl, and she went back to the window and stood looking out wishing that for a punishment she had thought of something beside staying in her room all day.

As she looked out she saw that Gilbert was still in his garden, that Winifred was beside him, and that they were both making motions for her to open the window.

She shook her head soberly. She could see that Winifred was greatly excited about something, and was talking eagerly to her brother. They both looked up at Ruth's window and again motioned with waving arms for her to open it. After a few moments they seemed to realize that she had, for some reason they could not imagine, been forbidden to; and with a good-bye signal they both turned and ran toward the house.

"I do wonder what they wanted to tell me," thought Ruth. "Oh, dear! It is dreadful to stay up here when Hero is home, and when Winifred and Gilbert have a secret." She began to realize that she had set herself no light punishment.

"But it wouldn't be a punishment if I were enjoying it," she finally decided, and getting the half-finished sock from her knitting bag, she drew a small rocking-chair to the center of the room, seated herself and began resolutely to knit.

Now and then she could hear sounds from the rooms below; and once Ruth dropped her knitting and started toward the door, for she had heard Hero's plaintive whine as he waited for admittance. Then had come Aunt Deborah's voice calling him away sternly; and Ruth picked up her knitting, resolved to keep exactly to her promise. She wondered if Major AndrÉ had sent Hero home in charge of "Dick," the smiling young soldier who had spoken to her on General Howe's door-steps. But most of all her thoughts centered about Winifred and Gilbert.

She heard the clock strike eleven, and realized that she was very hungry; and that an hour was a long time to wait before Aunt Deborah would bring her bowl of porridge. A shadow darkened the window, and she looked up with startled eyes to see Winifred's face pressed against the glass.

Ruth ran to the window. "How did you get up here?" she questioned in wonder.

"Open the window, quick!" Winifred responded in an anxious whisper. "The ladder wiggles about, and somebody may see me."

Ruth opened the window and Winifred crawled in, and suddenly the ladder disappeared.

"It's Gilbert. He promised to take it down as soon as I got in. What is the matter, Ruth? Has Aunt Deborah made you stay up-stairs? Did you know Hero was home? A soldier brought him." While Winifred talked she looked at Ruth anxiously, as if to make sure that nothing had really befallen her friend.

Ruth was smiling with delight at her unexpected visitor.

"Oh, Winifred! You were splendid to come up the ladder. I'm staying up-stairs to punish myself. I was rude to Aunt Deborah; and last night I dressed up in my mother's best dress and went to see General Howe!" Ruth answered.

Winifred was too surprised to reply, and Ruth went on telling of her sudden decision, and of the adventures that followed, and concluded with: "And of course I ought not to have dressed up, and I ought not to have run away. So now I am staying up-stairs all day, and all I am to have to eat is porridge and milk. I decided it myself," she concluded, not a little pleased at the thought.

"Why, Ruth Pennell!" exclaimed Winifred admiringly. "I don't know which is the most wonderful, your going to see General Howe, or your deciding to punish yourself. Begin at the time you reached the General's house and tell me everything up to now."

Ruth was quite ready to do this, and the two little friends seated themselves on the window-seat, Winifred listening admiringly while Ruth told over the story of the previous night. She had forgotten all about punishment; but a noise in the hallway and the sound of the clock striking the hour of noon made her stop suddenly in her whispered recital. "It's Aunt Deborah! Winifred, hide, quick! Under the bed," she said, at the same moment giving Winifred a little push.

Aunt Deborah came in smiling and unsuspicious, with a well-filled bowl of porridge and a generous pitcher of milk on the tray. It had been a happy morning for Aunt Deborah. Hero was safe at home, none the worse for his adventures; and, best of all, Ruth of her own accord had declared herself to blame, and decided that her faults should be punished. It seemed to Aunt Deborah that after this she and her little niece would have no more misunderstandings. She thought it a fine thing that Ruth wished to stay by herself all that sunny spring day; and she was sure it was no light punishment.