"Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad
For plunder; much solicitous how best
He may compensate for a day of sloth,
By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong."
--"The Task," Cowper.
It was Thursday morning, and Mrs. Owen and Peggy had been very busy
bringing the house and grounds into something like order. Now, however,
both mother and daughter were surveying ruefully a pile of garments that
constituted the remains of their depleted wardrobes. Presently the lady
laid down a gray gown of tabby silk with a sigh.
"There is no help for it, my daughter. Thee must have a new frock. I see
not how thou art to go to General Arnold's tea otherwise."
"Oh!" breathed Peggy a look of pleasure irradiating her face. Then as a
thought came to her: "But are not goods very high, mother? How can we
afford it?"
"We must, my child. Thou hast had no new frocks since Lexington, and
'tis quite time for others."
"But neither hast thou, mother. Does thee not remember that we
covenanted together that whatever we had to spend on clothes should be
given for garments for the soldiers? Now if I have a new gown, thee must
also."
"We will see, Peggy. But a gown thee must have. We will go to the
mercer's to-day; but stay! Did not Sally speak of coming for thee to go
to see a tree of some sort? That will delay us for another day."
"How thee remembers, mother! She did, and 'tis nine of the clock now. If
she is coming 'tis time she were here. Does thee not hear horses,
mother? Perhaps that is she now."
She ran to the window just in time to see a party of youths and maidens
draw rein before the door. Sally Evans dismounted and ran quickly into
the dwelling.
"Art ready, Peggy?" she cried. "We are going now to see the aloe tree."
"What aloe tree is it, Sally?" queried Peggy. "I have lived in
Philadelphia all my life, yet never before did I ever hear of one."
"'Tis because it hath only of late become remarkable," answered Sally.
"Mr. Dunlap hath an account of it in the last 'Packet.' This is the only
one in the whole state, and every one is going to see it."
"But I don't understand, Sally. Why should every one go? How is it
remarkable?"
"Oh, Peggy! Peggy! That comes from staying on a farm and not reading the
papers. Know then," assuming a didactic tone, "that the morning after
the arrival of the French Ambassador this tree shot forth its spire,
which it never does but once in the course of its existence, and in some
climates not less than a hundred years. This one has been planted about
forty-five years in the neighborhood of this city, and heretofore has
produced every year four leaves, but this spring early it spread forth
thirteen. And the spire," concluded Sally impressively, "is thirteen
inches round, and hath grown thirteen feet in thirteen days."
"But that is marvelous!" exclaimed the amazed Peggy.
"Is 't not? 'Tis regarded as a wonderful omen anent the French alliance
and the thirteen states. Now do get ready, Peggy. Have Tom to bring Star
around at once. The others are waiting."
"Shall I wear a loo-mask or a vizard, mother?" questioned Peggy, giving
an anxious glance at her reflection in the mirror.
"The loo-mask, Peggy. 'Tis easier held in place. Not thy gray duffle
riding frock, child. 'Tis o'er warm for that. Methinks that a safeguard
petticoat over the gown that thee has on with a short camlet cloak will
do nicely. I will tell Tom to bring Star around for thee."
"Sally, what does thee think? I am to have a new frock for General
Arnold's tea," confided Peggy as her mother left the room. "I did not
dream that we could spare money for furbelows, but mother insists that I
shall have it."
"Oh, but that is _charmante_!" exclaimed Sally. "Would that my mother
thought likewise, but I fear me that I shall have to wear the same
muslin frock that I've been wearing. Hey day! Thee is a fortunate girl,
Peggy."
"Am I not?" said Peggy gaily. "I have had no new one for so long that it
quite upsets me. I think of nothing else, and long for the time to come
to choose it."
"Yes; but do hurry now," cried Sally impatiently. "Thou art sufficiently
smart for a country lass."
"Thee is saucy, Sally," answered Peggy giving her a playful push. "Don't
call me a country girl. Thou art not so citified."
"Well, I haven't spent a whole year on a farm," retorted Sally. "Peggy,
if thee gives another stroke to thy hair thy cap will slip off. 'Tis as
smooth as satin now."
"There! I am ready at last," declared Peggy adjusting her riding mask.
"Oh, Sally, 'tis so good to be home again!"
"And 'tis so good to have thee, Peggy," returned her friend. "Nothing is
the same without thee. Why, when the city was under Sir William Howe----"
"Something hath happened," interrupted Peggy hastily, bending her head
to listen. "Mother is calling, and she seems upset. Come, Sally."
They hurried out of the room, and went quickly to the eastern piazza
where Mrs. Owen and Tom, the groom, stood.
"What is it, mother?" asked Peggy noting their disturbed looks.
"Peggy," said her mother going to her, "thee must be very brave, my
child. Star is gone. She hath been stolen from the stable."
"Star! My pony stolen!" cried the girl as though unable to believe her
ears. "My pony! Oh, mother, it can't be true!"
"I fear that it is only too true," answered the lady sorrowfully.
"But stolen? Who would steal Star? Tom,"--turning quickly to the negro
groom,--"when did thee see her last? Didn't thee feed her this morning?
"No'm; I ain't seed her dis mo'nin'," answered Tom who seemed stupefied
by the occurrence. "I fed her las' night, Miss Peggy, but when I kum out
dis mo'nin' she wuz gone. De back doah wuz open, an' I know'd she wuz
stole, kase I fas'n'd dat doah my own sef las' night."
"Oh, but she can't be," cried Peggy with a sob. "Maybe she has just
strayed away. Has thee looked in the garden, Tom? Or through the
orchard?"
"I hab looked ebberwhar, Miss Peggy," declared the black with dignity.
"Torm warn't gwine ter take any chances ob not seein' dat are mare when
she de onlyest piece ob hoss-flesh dat we has dat mounts ter a row ob
pins. No'm; she stole. Dat's all dere is to it."
"Peggy, Peggy!" called Robert Dale who, grown tired of waiting, had come
in search of the girls. "What keeps you so long?"
"Oh, Robert!" wailed Peggy bursting into tears. "My horse is stolen! My
pretty, pretty pony that father gave me!"
"Star stolen?" cried the youth aghast. Tom told his story again.
"And the door was fastened last night, you say? How about the door into
the yard, Tom?"
"I lock hit wid a padlock," declared Tom. "Dey wuz both fasten'd,
Marster Dale. 'Clare ter goodness dey wuz! I did it my own sef. I
fastens de inside doah on de inside, an' de outside one on de outside.
De front one wuz locked dis mo'nin', but de back one wuz wide open."
"Then some one must have been hiding inside," declared Robert. "I will
take a look through the barn."
With Sally's arm about her, Peggy and her friend followed the youth to
the stables. The lad mounted the ladder that led to the mow, and
presently called down excitedly:
"There hath been some one here of a truth. Here is a place where he hath
lain concealed in the straw, and the remnants of food that hath been
eaten. 'Tis all as plain as day!"
"But Star?" questioned Peggy with quivering lips as Robert descended the
ladder and stood once more beside them.
"We'll do everything we can to find her, Peggy," answered the boy as
cheerfully as he could. "Now let us tell the others. They will be
wondering what the matter is."
"Oh, Peggy, what will you do for a horse to go with us?" cried Betty
Williams as the party of young people heard the news.
"She may take mine," suggested Robert. "I will stay here to see what can
be done about Star."
"That is good of thee," said Peggy, wiping her eyes. "Do thou, Sally,
and all the others go on as planned. If Robert will stay to do whatever
can be done there is no need of any one else. 'Twould be mean to spoil
thy pleasuring just for my sake."
And so, despite their protests the young people were sent on, and Robert
turned to Peggy.
"Weep no more," he entreated, "but give me your aid in writing an
advertisement. This we will put in 'The Packet,' as that paper will
appear before 'The Gazette,' and that may bring some result. That will
be the best thing to do, will it not, Madam Owen?"
"I think so, Robert. And offer a reward also. It may meet the eye of the
person who took the mare and induce him to return her. I like not to
think of any taking her, though. Philadelphia is changed indeed."
"It is, madam. Naught is safe though General Arnold strives to enforce
strict military rule. War doth indeed cause sad havoc with the morals of
people. How much shall the reward be?"
"One hundred dollars," answered the lady, after a moment's calculation.
"What a help thou art."
"'Tis a pleasure," returned he gallantly. "Beside, is not your husband
in the field while we who dally here have naught to do? 'Tis good to
have something beside pleasuring to divert the mind. And the
advertisement? 'Tis highly fashionable to have it writ in verse. I like
it not, but anything in the mode commands more attention. If you will
help me, Peggy, perhaps I can compass it, though straight prose is more
to my liking."
So, drying her eyes, Peggy brought forth inkhorn and quills, and the two
evolved the following advertisement, which followed the fashion of the
day:
ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD!
Last night was stole away from me
A likely jet-black mare was she
Just four years old this month or nigh,
About fourteen and half hands high;
She's in good order and doth trot,
And paceth some, I'm sure of that;
Is wondrous pretty; a small star
In her forehead there doth appear;
Her tail was waved three days ago
Just like her mane, you'll find it so;
Above her eyes, if you come near,
She's very hollow, that is clear;
She has new fore shoes on, this I know--
I had her shod a week ago.
The above reward it will be sure
To any person that secures
Said thief and mare, that I may see
My mare again restor'd to me.
Or Fifty Dollars for the mare,
If the thief should happen to get clear;
All traveling charges if brought home
Upon the nail I will pay down.
"There!" declared Robert Dale when the two had completed their labor.
"There will be no more elegant effusion in the paper. 'Tis finely writ
and to the point. I'll take it at once to Mr. Dunlap, so that he may put
it into Saturday's 'Packet.' If that doesn't fetch your mare back,
Peggy, I don't know what will."