“If you please I will get out at the bridge,” Roxy had told Roland, as the gray ponies trotted swiftly over the road that had seemed so endless a distance to Roxy only a few hours earlier. “I left a basket near the brook, and I can go home across the pasture,” she explained; and at the bridge Roland bade her good-bye, promising that his sisters would soon return her visit.

Roxy found her basket, and now hurried up the slope eager to tell her mother about the three little girls with such beautiful names: “Jasmine, Myrtle, Ivy,” and Roxy repeated them over admiringly. Then the swing under the apple trees, the bantam chickens! But suddenly Roxy’s happy smile vanished as she remembered that she would have to explain how she happened to leave Polly and walk the long distance to visit three little girls whom she had never seen.

And now Roxy remembered something even more important, and exclaimed aloud:

“I promised Grandma not to go beyond the bridge unless someone was with me!” And at the remembrance of this Roxy sank down on the hillside.

“How could I forget it!” she whispered. “And what will Grandma say? Oh, I can’t tell her!” And now Roxy instantly resolved to say nothing of her visit to the Hinham girls or of her running away from Polly.

“I’ll wait and tell Mother first,” she thought, and now went soberly on toward the house, stopping to empty her lunch basket for the benefit of a flock of chickens that were running about the slope.

It was now late in the afternoon, but no anxiety had been felt over Roxy’s absence. Believing her to be with Polly Lawrence, Mrs. Delfield had not been troubled, and when she saw Roxy coming slowly up the slope came to the door to welcome her; but before Roxy had reached the house one of the negro field-hands was seen running across the yard and Roxy heard him call out:

“Sojers! Sojers! A’ army. Missus! Marchin’ down de road!” and the little girl turned and looked eagerly toward the highway and saw a group of mounted soldiers, in blue uniforms, as they rode swiftly down the road that led toward Harper’s Ferry.

It was the 27th of June, 1862, and on that very day General Lee had driven the Union forces under General Porter across the Chickahominy, putting General McClellan on the defensive, and creating alarm as to the security of Washington; and the little group of Union soldiers that Roxy now watched so eagerly were riding to join McClellan’s forces that were so soon to prove their unfaltering courage on the field of battle.

“My lan’! Ain’ we be’n seein’ sojers all de spring!” declared Dulcie. “’Tain’ no great sight on dese roads; an’ so long as de blue coats don’ run ’cross de gray coats I guess ’tain’ much ’count! But jes’ s’pose dey happens to meet up wid one ’nudder some day long de Anti-eatem!” and Dulcie shook her head solemnly, as Roxy stood on the porch looking after the soldiers.

But the passing of the “blue coats” had reminded Mrs. Delfield and her mother of how near they were to the scenes of the great conflict, and their faces grew sad as they spoke of the threatening advance of Jackson’s Confederate army in the Shenandoah Valley, of the recent battle at Fair Oaks, and of the new Commander-in-Chief of the Southern forces, General Robert E. Lee, an officer honored by every American, and fitted for the greatest command.

Talking of these things they paid but little attention to Roxy, who went slowly up to her chamber and kneeling down on the window-seat looked off wistfully toward the Lawrence farm, and began to wish that she was on the old friendly terms with Polly Lawrence.

“Perhaps Polly is looking over this way now. I wish we had thought of a signal that meant ‘I’m sorry,’” and Roxy sighed deeply. Then she sprang up and ran to the corner of the room, seized a towel and hurried back to the window. She leaned out and waved it, and then fastened it to the green wooden shutter.

“That means ‘Come over the minute you see this,’ and Polly will come. I’m sure she will. Polly never stays angry,” thought Roxy, and when her mother called her to supper she ran down sure that her quarrel with Polly was over.

But it was hard for Roxy not to speak of all that had happened, and she was so quiet at supper, so ready to go to bed at an early hour that her mother thought she must be tired out by the long day wandering about with Polly.

The next morning Roxy was awake at an early hour. She could hear the sleepy notes of nesting birds in the trees near the house, and the voices of the negro farm-hands as they started off to the fields. Her first waking thought was the “signal,” and in a moment she was out of bed running to the open window.

“There it is! There it is!” she whispered joyfully, as she saw the white signals fluttering from the attic window of Polly’s home.

“That means that Polly will come over as soon as she can,” Roxy thought happily, and when her mother came in at the usual hour she found Roxy dressed and ready for breakfast.

She had put on a fresh gingham dress, and now remembered the torn pink cambric. For a moment she wondered what her mother would say to the neat stitches that Nonny had set, but the sound of horses’ hoofs in the yard sent her flying to the window and at the sight of Polly on horseback she forgot all about the pink dress and ran down the stairs and out to meet her friend.

Polly smiled down at the little girl and said quickly:

“Everything all right, Roxy? Or did you want me for something special?”

“Just to be friends!” said Roxy soberly. “Can you not come in to breakfast, Polly? Do!” she pleaded, and Polly instantly slipped from the saddle and said:

“I told Mother I might spend the day, for it is cloudy all along the mountains and that means rain; and it will be just the day to work on your circus.”

A negro boy led the brown horse to the stable and Polly and Roxy went in the house.

“Polly’s going to spend the day,” Roxy announced, and her visitor was warmly welcomed, and Dulcie brought in plates of steaming waffles, and Polly declared that Mrs. Miller’s bees made the best honey in Maryland as she accepted a liberal helping.

Before breakfast was over it had begun to rain.

“A fine day to put my quilt into the frames,” declared Grandma Miller, “and Roxy can have her first lesson in quilting; there’ll be time for your paper animals this afternoon.”

“Yes, indeed!” Roxy eagerly agreed, “and may I help you mark the pattern, Grandma?”

Grandma Miller nodded. “I think we’ll mark a ‘Rising Sun,’” she said thoughtfully; and as Dulcie now brought the wooden quilting frames into the dining-room, and Mrs. Miller started upstairs for the bed-quilt she had pieced of bits of gingham, calico and cambric, the two girls looked at each other smilingly.

“It will be fun to help quilt,” Polly said, and Roxy watched her admiringly as she helped Mrs. Miller and Dulcie fasten the pretty quilt to the frames, that rested on the backs of four straight-backed chairs.

“Now for the ‘Rising Sun,’” said Grandma, who held a ball of twine which she began to rub with white chalk. “Polly, fasten the end of this twine in that corner,” she directed, and Polly promptly obeyed. “You shall ‘snap’ the chalked twine, Roxy,” Grandma Miller continued, as she drew the twine cornerwise across the quilt, and in a few moments Roxy was running from one side of the quilt to the other, “snapping” the taut chalked twine as Grandma directed, and which left white lines behind each “snap.” These lines ran from the corners and sides of the quilt to the centre, and made a pattern known as the “Rising Sun.”

When the marking was finished a thimble was found for Polly and she took her seat beside Mrs. Delfield on one side of the quilt, while Grandma Miller and Roxy were seated on the other side, and Roxy’s first lesson in quilting began.

“Put your left hand under the quilt, my dear; now take as small stitches as you can directly along the chalk-line,” said Grandma, and Roxy began, thinking this was even more fun than cutting out paper animals. But Mrs. Delfield did not let the girls “quilt” long. She knew that Roxy’s arms would easily tire, and in a little while she asked Roxy and Polly if they would not like to go to the kitchen and ask Dulcie to make a honey-cake for dinner, and the girls were quite ready to do this.

“Can’t we help make the cake, Dulcie?” asked Polly, and Dulcie nodded.

“I reckons yo’ can. De eggs has to be beat consid’bul fer honey-cake. Firs’ de whites has ter be all ob a foam, an’ den de yolks has ter be smoof as silk, an’ den yo’ has ter beat de butter so’s it mo’ like honey dan butter, an’ den——”

“Oh, Dulcie! Let me beat the whites! They bubble up so much like soap-bubbles,” said Roxy, and Dulcie brought out the egg basket and two big yellow bowls.

“Jes’ fetch two ob de biggest silver spoons, Miss Roxy. I don’ mak’ no cake wid common spoon,” she said, beginning to break the eggs, while the girls hastened to bring the spoons.

The big kitchen was a pleasant place that morning, and while Roxy and Polly beat the eggs and creamed the butter for the honey-cake Dulcie prepared vegetables and a chicken pie for the midday meal, and at last declared herself ready to “mix up de cake.”

“I can hardly wait to taste it,” Roxy said, as she watched Dulcie set the cake in the oven.

Before it was taken out Mrs. Miller and Roxy’s mother called the girls to come and help them roll up the quilt on its frames and set it in the hall.

“By the time you are ready for dinner the cake will be baked,” said Grandma, as the two girls ran upstairs to brush their hair and wash their hands.

“We will work on the ‘Circus’ after dinner,” said Polly. “It is only two weeks before your Grandma’s birthday, and there is a lot to do before the ‘Circus’ will be finished.”

“Polly! I know who I’ll ask to come to my ‘surprise’ for Grandma. I’ll ask the little Hinham girls and their brother!” said Roxy eagerly, “Don’t you think their names are lovely?”

“Yes,” responded Polly, wondering a little how it was that Roxy knew the names of the little Hinham girls. “Have they been over to see you?” she asked.

Roxy shook her head. She wanted to tell Polly all about her visit, but felt a little ashamed because she had started off so angry at Polly. Dulcie’s voice calling them to dinner sent them hurrying downstairs, and Polly asked no more questions.

After dinner the rain gradually ceased, and the two girls, sitting by Roxy’s table near the front window, were so busy with scissors and water-color paints, and with their plan for a birthday surprise party for Grandma Miller that they did not think about the weather until Polly suddenly jumped up and said:

“Roxy—Roxy! Here’s the sun shining, and the day nearly over. I must be off!” and with Roxy running beside her Polly started for the yard to ask one of the negro boys to saddle “Brownie.”

“I’m glad it rained!” said Roxy, as Polly swung herself to the saddle. “And our signals are splendid, aren’t they, Polly?”

“Splendid!” replied Polly, and with a smiling good-bye she sent “Brownie” off at a swift trot, and Roxy stood looking after her.

“Nobody, no other girl, is like Polly,” she thought, remembering Polly’s unfailing good nature. “Maybe it’s because she is almost grown up.” And then Roxy’s smile vanished. A whole day had passed and she had not yet found courage to tell her mother that she had forgotten about her promise not to go beyond the bridge, and had visited three little girls without being invited!

“I guess I had better tell her now!” Roxy decided. “It isn’t going to be any easier to wait,” and she went slowly toward the front porch where her mother and grandmother were sitting.