"Well, any way," said Ruth, "he is preparing for a land attack. It is common talk."
"Just a blind!" Andy broke in. But his face was troubled. "However, I must get these papers to him, and if I can I will speak to him. It can do no harm."
"But you cannot go as you are, Andy."
"How then?"
"Why," Ruth went to the door and dragged in a bundle, "in these!" She held up one of her own dresses, a big sunbonnet, and a neat white apron.
"Ruth!" Andy flushed hotly.
"I have sprained my ankle," Ruth explained with an assumed whimper, "and poor Hans is about distracted. He is afraid to go peddling alone with his secret writ large in both Dutch and English on his foolish face. I have told him I will go lame or no lame. Fortunately he is hard of hearing and stupid as an owl in broad daylight. You might be less like me than you are, and Hans would not know. We have much to be thankful for, Andy."
"Ruth, I cannot!"
"Andy, you shall!" They looked into each other's eyes and then because they were young and brave, they smiled; smiled above the danger and heartache.