When Elizabeth’s color came and went, as now, there was no girl like her in the village. Indeed, at all times she was prettiest, thought loyal Dolly, studying her next day, as they all walked to meeting--Elizabeth in a sprigged muslin and a bonnet with rose-colored ribbons. How beautiful she looked as she went to the singers’ seats! John Thurlow sat there, too. By turning a little in the pew, Dolly could see the singers’ seats, and half the congregation as well. So of course she saw Eunice Winter come in, and with her a strange young man, who soon perceived the pretty face under the rose-colored ribbons, and glanced at it frequently. Sometimes Dolly changed her position and studied the queer old pulpit, with its winding stairs and the roofing overhead. There was a loft in the roof, and squirrels and birds came in there. Suddenly Dolly gave a start, and a look of delight shone in her eyes. After that she heard not even the Parson’s “Finally,” and only came to herself when the people rose to depart. Then she pulled her sister’s dress. “Betty, do hasten!” she pleaded. “I have something to tell you.” Elizabeth glanced down at the excited face. “What is it, Dolly?” she asked, anxiety sharpening her quiet voice. “Come,” urged Dolly, “away from the others! I _must_ tell you!” Elizabeth followed her sister to a corner of the meeting-house yard, where they were alone. “What is it, Dolly?” Betty asked again, shaken out of her usual calm. Dolly leaned forward. “Tell John Thurlow I know where his muskets are,” she said, “and if they be not careful, others will know it, too!” Elizabeth caught the girl’s hand tightly. “How knew you that, Dolly?” she asked, a great fear choking her. Dolly could be trusted, but many Royalists in the neighborhood were seeking just this knowledge! “Oh,” said Dolly, delighted at the importance of her discovery, “I saw something gleaming through a crack in the roofing. I thought at first ’twas the sunlight, but presently I noted some dust in the pew. I put my hand down and picked some up and tasted it, and although I be ‘so young,’ I know powder. Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have died sooner than betray it!” Her eyes were flashing through tears. “I know it, little sister,” said Elizabeth. “I would trust you as soon as myself. But do you not see it would be foolish to take more than were necessary into the secret?” “Ye-es,” admitted Dolly reluctantly, and then with the old mischievous smile, she added: “Betty, was it necessary for you to know it?” “You have a sadly undisciplined tongue, Dolly,” said Betty, coloring. “But you do not fear to trust me,” said Dolly as they walked slowly back across the yard. Then the undisciplined tongue reasserted itself. “Did you note the fine gallant Eunice Winter had to-day?” she asked. “I saw there was a stranger.” “He scarce took his eyes from a bonnet with rose-colored ribbons. And he is much finer-seeming than John Thurlow, Betty!”