"I met Lieutenant Hillhouse last summer at my father's house," said Betty, as the young officer came around to her side of the coach, "and right glad I am to see you now, sir, instead of the redcoats whom Caesar, our coachman, has been imagining would start from every bush as we near White Plains." "You are not above a mile from a little settlement called Ridgefield," answered the officer; "and while there is no tavern there, my men and I found fairly comfortable quarters to-day. If I may suggest, you should get there as soon as may be." "We would be glad to," said Mrs. Seymour ruefully, "but one of my horses has cast a shoe, hence our slow progress. I am more than glad my servant has not mistaken the way." "Madam oughter to know Caesar better," grumbled that worthy from the box. "How long will it take you to drive the remaining mile?" said his mistress soothingly. "We may perhaps have your escort, lieutenant?" "I am on my return there, madam; permit me to send my men in advance to arrange for your comfort, and I will with pleasure ride beside you until we arrive. Ridgefield lies beyond that turn," raising his whip to direct Caesar. "If it were not for the growing darkness, you would see the smoke from the chimney of the house where I am quartered;" and closing the door of the coach, the officer gave directions to his men, who marched quickly down the road, as he mounted and pursued his way with the ladies. Just beyond the farmhouse which Lieutenant Hillhouse had pointed out as his temporary quarters stood a low, wooden structure, with a lean-to in the rear, and there Caesar drew up his tired horses. A rather cross-looking spinster stood in the door of the house, and as Betty and Mrs. Seymour alighted she said snappishly:-- "I don't own much room, as I told your men, Mister Lieutenant, but so long as you're not Hessians I'm willing to open my door for you. It won't be for long, will it?" "Oh, no," replied Mrs. Seymour, with her pretty, gracious smile, "we are simply in need of a night's lodging. I think we have food enough in our hampers, and if you can give us hot milk I have coffee ready for making." "I don't begrudge you nothing," said the woman in a softened tone, as Betty bade her a pleasant good-day, "but it's a poor place, anyhow," gazing up at the bare rafters, "and as I live here all alone I have to be precious careful of my few things." "But it so neat and clean," said Betty, pulling a three-legged stool toward the fire, and surveying the recently scrubbed floor; "we are cold and weary, and you are very good to take us in."