“Betty, Betty,” implored Pamela, bursting into tears, “do I not love our little sister as well as you?  You do mistake me; I did not dare go counterwise to Oliver and Josiah, but indeed I love you for your courage.”

“There, say no more,” said Betty, dropping the brush with which she was reducing Moppet’s rebellious locks to order, and rushing into Pamela’s arms with quick repentance.  “I am cross and upset this morning, and not fit to talk to you, my gentle Pamela, so go down and make the coffee and forgive my petulance.”

Dolly, who had witnessed this little sisterly passage of arms in shy fright, put her hand in Pamela’s and whispered, as they gained the staircase:—­

“Dry your eyes, Pamela dear; Betty is most forward to speak thus to her elder sister.”

“There you mistake,” said Pamela, changing front with true feminine inconsistency.  “Betty is quite right, and I am displeased,—­yes downright displeased with myself that I did not side with her last night,” and with unwonted color flushing her usually pale cheeks Pamela walked into the breakfast-room, Dolly following meekly behind her.

Meanwhile, Oliver and Josiah were upon the roof of the mansion conducting most careful investigation.  They had decided that it was useless to pursue Yorke, for he might have many hours in advance of them, and they must take the chances that he would be recaptured by some of Putnam’s men, especially if he again mistook the country and went west instead of north.  They climbed through the trap-door, but as the heavy dews had not yet begun there was no trace of footsteps upon the roof beyond a faint mark, which might be the spot where the prisoner had dropped from the chimney.  It was quite possible for an agile fellow, accustomed to use his muscle, to clamber down the sloping roof to the elm and escape to the ground by its branches, and that he was not heard was partly due to his own care and the unusually heavy slumbers of the inmates of the mansion.  Having reached this conclusion, Oliver was fain to make the best of it, and in much chagrin descended to the breakfast-table.

Try as she did to look demure and avoid speaking upon the subject which all were discussing, Betty could not keep her dancing eyes in order, and before the meal was over she flashed so roguish a glance at Oliver that, irritated at her mute opposition, he could not refrain from saying:—­

“There sits Betty looking fairly pleased because she has her own way, and apparently cares nothing for the escape of an enemy to her country.”

“Fie, Oliver,” spoke up Pamela with unusual fire, “Betty is as loyal as you or I, and you are unfair to tax her because she heartily disapproves of your course in regard to Captain Yorke’s detention after the signal service he has rendered to all us Wolcotts.”

“Pamela!” cried Oliver, good temper returning, and gazing in comic dismay at his favorite sister, much as he would at a dove who had ruffled its plumes.  “This from you, Pamela?  If Betty be allowed to demoralize the family in this wise, I think it were well my father takes you all in hand.”