"Give Betsy a brush of horse hair and wool,
Of paste and pomatum a pound,
Ten yards of gay ribbon to deck her sweet skull,
And gauze to encompass it round.
Her cap flies behind, for a yard at the least,
And her curls meet just under her chin,
And those curls are supported, to keep up the jest,
By a hundred, instead of one pin."
--A Verse of the Day.
"Will I do, mother?" asked Peggy, taking up the old fan with the sandal
wood sticks, and turning about slowly for the lady's inspection.
It was the night of General Arnold's tea, and the maiden had just put
the finishing touch to her toilet, and was all aglow with excitement.
The creamy folds of the silken gown well became her dark hair and eyes.
The bodice, cut square, revealed her white throat so young and girlish.
Her white silk mitts, long and without fingers, were held to the sleeve
by "tightens." A gauze cap with wings and streamers perched saucily upon
her dark locks which were simply drawn back from her low, broad
forehead, braided with a ribbon, and powdered but little. The prim
little frock fell just to her ankles, revealing the clocked white
stockings and dainty high heeled slippers with pearls glistening upon
the buckles.
"Didst ever behold a more bewitching damsel than thy daughter, Mistress
Peggy Owen?" she cried, sweeping her mother a deep curtsey.
Her eyes were shining. She was for the nonce a happy maiden concerned
with naught save the pleasures of girlhood, and possessed of a mood that
would have been habitual had not the mighty sweep of public events
tinged her girlish gaiety with an untoward gravity.
Some such thought flitted through Mrs. Owen's mind as she surveyed her
daughter with tender eyes, and she sighed. A look of anxiety flitted
over Peggy's face.
"Is thee not well?" she queried. "Or is it wrong, mother, for me to be
so happy when father is in the field?"
"Neither, my daughter. I was but wishing that thou couldst be as care
free all the time as thou art to-night. But there! we will partake of
the fruit that is offered leaving the bitter until the morrow. Thy gown
well becomes thee, child. I make no doubt but that thou wilt look as
well as any."
"Mother," exclaimed the girl, a soft flush dyeing her face, "thee will
make me vain."
"I trust not, my daughter. Others will, no doubt, tell thee so, and 'tis
as well that thou shouldst hear it first from me. Let it not spoil thee,
Peggy. Ah! here is Sukey to tell us that Robert and his uncle have come
for us."
Peggy gave a backward look at her reflection in the mirror, and well
pleased with what she saw there followed her mother sedately to the
drawing-room where Robert Dale and his uncle, Mr. Jacob Deering, awaited
them.
The latter, stately in an olive-colored silk velvet with knee buckles,
silk stockings, bright silver shoe-buckles and the usual three looped
hat held in his hand, hastened to greet them as they entered.
"Zounds! Miss Peggy," he cried. "'Tis well that I am not a young buck,
else you should look no further for a gallant. Bless me, but you have
grown pretty! Bob, you rascal! why did you not prepare me for what I
should see? Upon my word, child, you must not mind a kiss from an old
man."
So saying he held her at arm's length in admiration, and then kissed her
on both her cheeks. Whereat Peggy blushed right prettily.
"Thee will make me vain," she protested. "And mother hath but ceased
warning me against such vanity. In truth, Friend Deering, I believe that
no girl was ever so happy as I am to-night."
"'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may:
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow may be dying,'"
he quoted gaily. "Have your fling, child. The morrow may bring grave
problems to be solved, so be happy while you can. 'Tis youth's
prerogative. Bob, do you follow with Mrs. Owen. I shall take an old
man's privilege and lead the princess to the coach myself. I' faith,
there will be no opportunity for a word with her once she reaches
headquarters."
Peggy gave Robert Dale an arch glance over her shoulder as the old
gentleman led her to the coach, where she settled herself to await with
what patience she could their arrival at Major-General Arnold's.
At this time there was no suspicion whispered against the patriotism of
Benedict Arnold. Scarcely any soldier had done so much to sustain the
liberties of his country, and tales of his prowess, his daring and
courage were rife in the city. Upon being placed in charge of
Philadelphia by the commander-in-chief, General Washington, he had taken
possession of the mansion in High Street, once the home of Richard Penn,
and recently occupied by Sir William Howe. It was regarded as one of the
finest houses in the city, was built of brick, and stood on the
southeast corner of Front and High Streets.
Peggy and her mother knew that the affair was to be more than the
ordinary tea, but they were scarcely prepared for the sumptuousness of
the occasion.
"Is it a ball, Robert?" whispered the girl as they stood for a moment in
the crush about the door.
"No," answered the youth a frown contracting his brow. "'Tis elaborate
enough for one, and that is truth, Peggy. But when one is given it seems
to be the general's purpose to outvie all that rumor hath spoken of the
Mischianza. All his entertainments are given on a most magnificent
scale; as though he were a man of unbounded wealth and high social
position. I like it not."
Peggy opened her lips to reply, but before she could do so the way was
cleared for them to approach the general. The girl looked with intense
interest at the gallant soldier of whose prowess she had heard so much.
He was a dark, well-made man, still young, not having reached the
meridian of life; his face, bronzed and darkened by fatigue and
exposure, indicated that he had seen the severest hardships of a
soldier's life. Unable to accept a command in the field because of the
wounds received at Saratoga the preceding fall he had been made
commandant of the city. He was still on crutches, being thin and worn
from the effects of his hurt.
Some of the stories of his great courage upon that occasion came to
Peggy's mind, and brought a glow of admiration to her eyes. She flushed
rosily as he said in greeting:
"I am pleased to welcome you, Mistress Peggy. A certain aide of mine
hath talked of naught else but your return for a week past. You are to
report him to me if he does not give you an enjoyable time. Ah, Dale!
look to't that you distinguish yourself in the matter."
"Are there none but Tories?" questioned Peggy, as General Arnold turned
to greet other arrivals, and Mrs. Owen paused to converse with some
acquaintances.
"Well," the lad hesitated a moment and then continued, "they seem
remarkably fond of him, Peggy, and he of them. I would it were not so,
but many of the staff have thought that they flocked to his
entertainments in mischievous numbers."
"But are there no others?" asked the girl again, for on every side were
Tories and Neutrals to such an extent that scarce a Whig was to be seen.
"Oh, yes, the gentlemen of Congress are here somewhere, for there is Mr.
Charles Lee, who is always to be found where they are. He pays court to
them upon every occasion in the endeavor to convince them what great
merit he showed at the battle of Monmouth." And the youth laughed.
"And the head-dresses," exclaimed the girl in astonishment. "How high
they are. And the pomade! And the powder! Why, Robert, all the fashion
of the city is here!"
"And what did the general say to thee, Peggy?" cried Sally's voice, and
Robert and Peggy turned to find Sally and Betty directly behind them.
"Did he compliment thee upon thy name? 'Tis his favorite, thee knows.
There comes Miss Margaret Shippen now, and look at thy general, Robert.
One could tell that he was paying court to her."
"They are to be married soon, I hear," announced Betty, when the laugh
that had followed Sally's remark died away.
"How beautiful she is," exclaimed Peggy admiringly as she gazed at the
stately Miss Shippen.
"She is indeed," assented Robert, "though I would she were not a Tory."
"Fie, fie, Robert," laughed Peggy. "Is not thy Cousin Kitty a Tory? I
never heard thee object to her."
"Oh, Kitty! that's different." Robert was plainly embarrassed.
"Is it?" The three girls laughed again, enjoying his confusion.
"I but voice the objections of the army," explained he when their
merriment had subsided. "Of the Congress also, who fear the effect upon
the people, there is so much feeling anent the Tories."
"Congress!" exclaimed Sally with a scornful toss of her head. "I should
not mind what Congress said if I were General Arnold. They wouldn't even
give him his proper rank until after Saratoga, though His Excellency,
General Washington, did his utmost to make them. I wouldn't ask the old
Congress anything anent the matter. So there!"
"Hoity-toity, my young lady! Have a care to your words. Know you not
that the gentlemen of that same Congress are present? It seems to me
that I have heard that some of those same gentlemen are the very men who
are on the board of a certain institution----"
"Oh, hush, hush, Mr. Deering," cried Sally turning with some excitement
to the old gentleman. "'Tis a secret known to but few."
"Now what did I say?" he demanded as the others looked at the two in
surprise. "Miss Peggy, won't you defend me?"
"Let him say it over, Sally," said Peggy roguishly. "Perhaps we can tell
then."
"No, no," uttered Sally with a questioning glance at him. "Thee does
know," she burst forth as she met his twinkling eyes. "How did thee find
it out, Mr. Deering?"
"If you will glad an old man by treading this measure with him, I'll
tell you," he answered. "Or perhaps you prefer a younger squire?"
"Oh, thee! Thee every time," cried she, linking her arm in his.
"Won't you follow them, Peggy?" asked Robert.
"Why, no," she answered in surprise. "Thee knows that I am a Quaker,
Robert."
"But not now, Peggy," interposed Betty. "Since thee has become a Whig,
and have been read out of meeting thee is an apostate. Sally and I both
have learned to languish and glide at the new academy in Third Street.
They are taught there in the politest manner. Thee must attend."
Peggy looked troubled.
"I do not think we should give up everything of our religion because we
are led to differ from the Society in the matter of politics," she said.
"At least that is the way mother looks at it, though I should like to
learn to dance. Oh, dear! I am getting worldly, I fear. Now, Betty, thee
and Robert run along while I stand here and watch you. It hath been long
since I saw so bright a scene."
Thus urged, Robert and Betty glided out upon the floor, and Peggy looked
about her.
The extravagance of the costumes was beyond anything hitherto seen in
the quiet city of Penn, and Peggy's eyes opened wide at the gorgeous
brocades and wide hooped skirts. But most of all did she marvel at the
headdresses of the ladies. These, built of feathers, aigrets and
ribbands, topped the hair already piled high upon steel frames and
powdered excessively. The air was full of powder from wig and
head-dress. Happy laughter mingled with the music of the fiddles, and
the rustle of brocades. All made up a scene the luxury of which stole
over the little maid's senses and troubled her. Unconsciously she
sighed.
"Why not treading a measure, my little maid?" queried General Arnold's
pleasant voice, and Peggy looked up to find him smiling down upon her.
"I am a Quaker," she told him simply.
"Then mayhap we can console each other; although I do not refrain from
religious scruples."
"No; thee does it because of thy wound," uttered the girl a glow of such
intense admiration coming into her eyes that the general smiled
involuntarily. "Does it pain thee much, Friend--I should say--General
Arnold?"
[Illustration: "FRIEND--I SHOULD SAY--GENERAL ARNOLD"]
"Nay; call me friend, Miss Peggy. I like the name, and no man hath too
many. At times I suffer much. At first I was in a very fever of
discontent, 'twas so long in healing. I chafed under the confinement,
for it kept me from the field. Of late, however, I have come to bear its
tardiness in healing with some degree of patience."
"Mother thinks that as much bravery may be shown in endurance as in
action," she observed shyly.
"More, more," he declared. "Action is putting into execution the resolve
of the moment, and may be spurred by excitement or peril to deeds of
daring. One forgets everything under its stimulus. But to be compelled
to sit supinely when the liberties of the country are in danger----Ah!
that is what takes the heart out of a man. It irks me."
"Thee should not fret," she said with such sweet gravity that his worn
dark face lighted up. "Thou hast already given so much for thy country
that 'tis well that thou shouldst take thy ease for a time. Thee has
been very brave."
"Thank you," he returned, his pleasure at her naive admiration being
very apparent. Already there had been detractions whispered against his
administration of the city, and the genuine appreciation of this little
maid for his military exploits was soothing to him. "I know not how our
talk hath become so serious," he said, "but I am a poor host to permit
it. 'Tis not befitting a scene of pleasure. Wilt take tea with me, Miss
Peggy?"
Peggy looked up quickly, thinking she had not heard aright. What! she, a
simple young girl, to be taken to tea by so great a general! Mr. Arnold
stood courteously awaiting her assent, and realizing that he had indeed
bestowed the honor upon her, she arose, swept a profound curtsey, and
murmured an almost inaudible acceptance.
There were little gasps of surprise from Sally and Betty, as she swept
by them, but pride had succeeded to Peggy's confusion, and she did not
turn her head. Assured that never again would she be filled with such
felicity Peggy held her head high, and walked proudly down the great
drawing-room by Benedict Arnold's side.
'Twas customary in Philadelphia for the mistress of a household to
disperse tea to guests, but the general having no wife pressed his
military attachés into this duty. So overwhelmed was Peggy with the
honor conferred upon her that she did not notice that her cup was filled
again and again by the obliging servitor. She was recalled to herself,
however, by an audible aside from Sally:
"And hath thy general plenty of Bohea in the house, Robert? 'Tis to be
hoped so, else there will be none for the rest of us. That is Peggy's
sixth cup, is it not?"
"Oh, dear!" gasped Peggy flushing scarlet, and hastily placing her spoon
across the top of her cup, for this was the proper mode of procedure
when one had been served sufficiently. "I did not know, I did not
think--in fact, the tea was most excellent, and did beguile me. Nay," she
broke off looking at him bravely. "'Twas because I was so beset with
pride to think that it was thou who served me that I forgot my manners.
In truth, the incident is so notable that I shall never forget it."
"Now, by my life, you should drink all there is for that speech though
no one else were served," declared he laughing. "What! No more? Then we
will see to 't that your friend hath cause for no further complaint. Do
you read, Miss Peggy?"
From a small spindle-legged table that stood near, he selected a book
from several which lay on its polished surface, and handed it to her.
"Pleasure me by accepting this," he said. "'Tis Brooke's 'Lady Juliet
Grenville.' Most young ladies like it, and it hath more endurance than a
cup of tea."
"Oh, thank thee! Thank thee!" cried she delightedly. "I have heard much
of the tale, and have longed to read it. I shall truly treasure it."
"Would that my name were Margaret," cried Sally as General Arnold left
her with her friends. "And what did thee do to merit all this honor,
Miss Peggy?"
"I know not," answered Peggy regarding the book almost with awe. "Oh,
girls! hath he not indeed been kind to me? 'Tis most wonderful how
everything hath happened. How vastly delightsome town life is! I hope
mother will go to every tea to which we are asked."
"And has thee had so much excitement that thee does not care for my
secret?" asked Sally. "'Twas my purpose to declare it at this time."
"Do tell it, Sally," pleaded Peggy aroused by Sally's earnest tone.
"Thee promised."
"Yes, yes, Sally," urged Betty. "Do tell us."
"Then come close," said Sally motioning to Robert and Mr. Deering to
draw nearer. "Know then, all of you, that to-morrow I am to begin to
prepare for being a nurse in the General Hospital."
"Oh, Sally!" cried Betty and Peggy in a chorus.
"Yes," said she, enjoying their surprise. "Mr. Deering seems to have
known it, and Robert here, but 'tis known to no others. I have been
minded for some time to do something more than make socks and shirts,
though they are badly needed, too, I hear."
"'Tis just splendid, Sally," declared Peggy. "But Betty and I must do
something too. It will never do for thee to be the only one of us girls
to do so well. What shall we do, Betty?"
"I fancy that my hands at least will be full," said Betty. "Mother
thinks it advisable for me to take the smallpox as soon as she can spare
me."
"La!" giggled Sally. "How will that help the country, Betty?"
"By preventing it from spreading," answered Betty, at which they all
laughed.
The music struck up at this moment, and the talk which had threatened to
become serious was interrupted. About eleven a genteel supper was
served, and General Arnold's tea had come to an end.