PEGGY IS SURPRISED
"The state that strives for liberty, though foiled
And forced to abandon what she bravely sought,
Deserves at least applause for her attempt,
And pity for her loss. But that's a cause
Not often unsuccessful."
--"_The Task," Cowper._
Peggy was nearly blinded by the sudden rush of snow and wind that
followed the opening of the great front door, and so for the moment
did not recognize the two, a man and a woman, who stood there on the
steps.
"Will ye enter, friends?" she asked courteously. "'Tis a fearful
storm!"
"That it is, Peggy. We are mighty glad to reach shelter. Come,
Fairfax! I told you that we should be welcome."
"Nurse Johnson," shrilled the girl in delight. "Why, come right in.
Welcome? Of course thee is welcome. And thou also, Friend Fairfax.
Why, we were speaking of thee but now. Mother, 'tis Friend Nurse, from
Virginia."
"Come in, Friend Johnson," spoke Mrs. Owen warmly, coming in haste
from the sitting-room. "Thee must be cold. 'Tis dreadful weather. Let
me help thee with thy wraps."
"I was getting pretty cold," acknowledged Nurse Johnson. "We were on
our way to the Jerseys, where my sister hath taken a farm. We thought
to get to Burlington to-night, but the storm made traveling so
difficult that I told Fairfax that I made no doubt you would put us up
until 'twas over."
"'Twill give us great pleasure, Friend Nurse--I should say, Friend
Johnson," answered Mistress Owen graciously. "We have heard Peggy talk
of thee so much that we have fallen into her way of speaking of thee."
"Continue so to call me, Mrs. Owen. I like it," declared Nurse Johnson
heartily.
"Peggy, see thou to the dishing up of the dinner, while I attend our
friends," spoke her mother. "We were just on the point of taking it up
when ye came," she explained. "Hot pepper-pot will warm ye better than
anything."
"Isn't that our Silent Knight?" queried Betty, in a shrill whisper as
Peggy was passing through the room.
"Yes, Betty. Shall I place him by thee at table?"
"See how she is priming for conquest," remarked Sally as Betty,
nodding acquiescence, began unconsciously to smooth her hair. "She
must tell us every word he says; must she not, Robert?"
"Of a verity," smiled the young man, his amusement plainly visible.
"I think thee has met with every one, Friend Nurse," observed Mrs.
Owen entering at this moment with the new arrivals. "David ye know, of
course. Sally and Betty ye met last year. Robert? No; ye do not know
him. Robert Dale, of the army, Nurse Johnson. And this is Fairfax, her
son, Robert. Ye should be good friends, as ye have both fought for the
country."
"Thou hast forgot to give Robert his rank, Lowry," spoke Mr. Owen as
the young men shook hands. "Friend Johnson, have this chair. Thou wilt
find it easy and quite comfortable."
"Thy pardon, Robert," exclaimed Mrs. Owen. "I do not always remember
that thou art Major Dale."
"I do not always remember it myself, madam," returned the youth
modestly. "And I wish to be Robert to you always."
"How these children grow!" exclaimed Nurse Johnson sinking into the
easy chair with a sigh of content. "It hardly seems possible that
Fairfax is more than a boy; yet here he is a captain in the army."
"A captain?" ejaculated Peggy in surprise.
"Yes; it does seem strange, doesn't it? You see he served with the
militia in Virginia during the last few years, and I presume would
have stayed with it; but his uncle, my sister's husband, persuaded him
to enlist with the regular army. He said that if he would enroll
himself among the New Jersey troops he would get him a commission as
captain, which he did. That is one of the reasons we are going to New
Jersey."
"Thou wilt find it very comfortable here on the settle, Captain
Johnson," spoke Betty sweetly, drawing her skirts aside with such an
unmistakable gesture that Fairfax, flushing hotly, was obliged to
seat himself beside her.
Peggy's glance met Sally's with quick understanding.
"I will help thee, Peggy," said Sally, rising. "Nay; we do not need
thee, Mrs. Owen. Didst ever see Betty's equal?" she questioned as they
reached the kitchen.
Peggy laughed.
"Sally, she will never make him talk in the world," she declared.
"Thou and I will have a good laugh at her when 'tis over. 'Twill give
a fine chance to tease."
"'Tis just like a party," cried Betty as, a little later, they were
gathered about the table. "'Tis charming to meet old friends! And
everybody is here save thy cousins, Clifford and Harriet, Peggy. Oh,
yes! and Captain Drayton."
"Captain Drayton is to go to Lancaster too, I understand," remarked
Mr. Owen. "Did thee know, lass?"
"No, father. I thought he was still with General Greene. He returned
to him after Yorktown."
"Yes, I know. This is but a recent arrangement. I shall be glad to
have him at Lancaster. He is good help in a matter of the nature we
shall find there."
"And the cousins?" inquired Nurse Johnson. "Did they go to New York
from Yorktown? I have wondered anent it."
"Harriet went with Cousin William to New York; but Clifford was sent
somewhere into the interior with the men. Thee remembers that all the
majors and captains accompanied the men, to look after their welfare
and to maintain discipline," explained Peggy.
"I rather liked Clifford," remarked the nurse. "He certainly earned
our gratitude, Peggy, by protecting us when the British came to
Williamsburgh. Did Peggy tell you about it, Mrs. Owen?"
"Yes; and so much else concerning the lad that I find myself quite
anxious to see him," answered Mrs. Owen. "Peggy declares that he
should have been her brother instead of Harriet's. He looks so much
like David."
"I think I agree with her. The resemblance is remarkable. But why did
he go under the name of Captain Williams? I never did understand it."
"'Twas because he went into the army without his father's permission,"
Peggy told her. "He feared that if he came to America under his own
name Cousin William might use his influence to have him returned to
England. 'Tis generally known, however, that he is Colonel William
Owen's son, though he is called Captain Williams."
"Well, I hope the lad is well treated wherever he may be," said the
nurse musingly. "I should not like harm to befall him; he was so
considerate of us. What is the outlook for another summer, Mr. Owen?"
"The general is preparing for another campaign, Friend Johnson. The
preparations are proceeding slowly, however, owing to the exhaustion
of the country. Then, too, every state seems afraid of bearing more
than its share of the war. There is much disinclination to vigorous
exertion. His Excellency is pleading and entreating that the people
may not let the late success of our arms render them insensible to the
danger we still face. There is talk of a new commander for the
British, I hear. Meantime, our coasts are harassed by the enemy, and
our commerce is all but stopped. Could the general have followed out
his wish, and laid siege to Charlestown after the success at Yorktown,
we need not have prepared for another campaign."
And so the talk went on. It was never in the character and traditions
of England to treat with an enemy in the hour of disaster. In its
history treaties had, from time immemorial, followed upon victory,
never upon defeat. It was therefore necessary as well as politic to
grasp the full fruits of the brilliant success at Yorktown, and
Washington, with the vigor which was one of the most striking traits
of his well balanced nature, wished to carry its consequences to their
utmost limit. But the French fleet under De Grasse refused to
co-operate longer, and the general was forced to send his army back to
the Hudson while he began preparations for another campaign. Meantime,
the illicit trade assumed proportions that threatened to undo
everything that had been gained by force of arms.
All these things were discussed, and Nurse Johnson gave them the
latest news of the army in the South: General Greene had completely
invested Charlestown, she said. General Wayne had been sent to
Georgia and now lay before Savannah. The capitulation of the two
places seemed but a question of time. The French still lay about
Williamsburgh, having chosen that place for their winter quarters.
It was reported that they would go north with the opening of spring.
In turn, Mr. Owen told of the numerous raids that had been made,
principally by refugees along the coast, the capture of the
merchantmen, and the war at sea. Under cover of the conversation
of their elders, Peggy was amused to see that Betty was talking
animatedly to Fairfax Johnson. Presently, the dinner was finished,
and she found herself alone in the dining-room with her girl friends.
"Peggy, thee maligned Captain Johnson," declared Betty closing the
door of the sitting-room. "Get me a towel, Sally. We will both wipe
the dishes." She polished a plate vigorously as she continued: "I
found him most entertaining. He and his mother are going to northern
New Jersey, where his aunt and uncle have a large farm. Plantation, he
calls it. They grew very tired of being with the military so much at
Williamsburgh, though no one could desire better troops than the
allies. They intend to make their home in New Jersey if they like it.
His aunt hath but one son, who is with the military on Tom's River."
Peggy gazed at her with an expression of the most intense
astonishment.
"He told thee all that, Betty?" she exclaimed. "Why, thee is
wonderful! In all the six or seven months that I knew him I never
heard him say so much."
"He needs just a little encouragement," said Betty complacently. "He
is really quite interesting. I enjoyed the conversation greatly. Sally
Evans, whatever is the matter?"
"Oh! oh!" screamed Sally. "She enjoyed the conversation greatly. I
should think she would. Why, she did all the talking. Robert and I
commented upon it. Oh, Betty! Betty!"
"I did not do all the talking," retorted Betty indignantly. "How could
I have learned all the things I have said if I did the talking?"
"The conversation went like this, Peggy," giggled Sally: "'Is the farm
a large one that thy aunt hath taken, Friend Fairfax?' 'Yes,' answers
he. Then Betty with a smile: 'I believe Southerners call a farm a
plantation, do they not?' 'Yes,' he said. 'Is being with the military
so much the reason thou and thy mother left Williamsburgh?' 'Yes,' he
said again. 'It really must be tiresome,' goes on Betty, 'though it
hath been said that the French are exceedingly well behaved troops.
Does thee not think so, Friend Fairfax?' 'Yes,' he said once more. And
that is the way the whole conversation went. I don't believe the poor
fellow said anything else but that one word, yes."
"He did," declared Betty with heat. "I remember quite distinctly that
once he said, 'It doth indeed;' and--and--oh! lots of other things. Ye
are both just as mean as can be. And he did listen most attentively. I
really enjoyed the talk, as I said."
"I'll warrant thee did," laughed Peggy while Sally was convulsed with
mirth. "I think thee did well, Betty. Thou art to be congratulated."
"There, Sally Evans," cried Betty. "I knew that Peggy would think
about it in the right way."
"Listen to her," sniffed Sally. "Didst ever hear the like? Betty," she
ejaculated suddenly, "thee should not have helped with the dishes in
such a gown. Thee has got a spot on it. This is no place for a belle.
Suppose that thee goes back into the sitting-room now, and find out
some more of Master Fairfax's plans."
"So thee can have a chance to talk me over with Peggy?" questioned
Betty scornfully. "I don't see any spot."
"Here it is," answered Sally, lifting a fold of the pink paduasoy on
which a small spot showed darkly. "It may be just water, which will
not stain. I should not like anything to happen to that gown. Thee
looks so charming in it."
"Thank thee, Sally," said Betty examining the spot critically, quite
mollified by Sally's compliment. "I think 'twill be all right when
'tis dry. It might be as well, though, to go back to the sitting-room.
I dare say they are wondering what hath become of us. Thee will come
too, will thee not?"
"Yes, go; both of you," said Peggy, picking up the dish-pan, and
starting for the kitchen. "I will come too in a few moments. No,
Sally, thee cannot help in the kitchen. Sukey and I will finish the
pots and pans. It won't take long. And thee needs to be there to keep
Betty in order," she ended merrily.
"Well, if thee won't be long," agreed Sally reluctantly.
Both girls passed into the sitting-room, while Peggy proceeded to the
kitchen. As has been said, the kitchen was attached to the main
dwelling by a covered entry way. On one side of this was a door
leading out to the west terrace, which, the girl noticed, was partly
open.
"No wonder 'tis hard to keep the kitchen warm with that door open,"
she cried. "That must be some of Tom's carelessness. I must speak to
him."
She put down the dish-pan on the wash bench, and went to the door to
close it. As it resisted her efforts to shut she stepped outside to
see what the trouble was. A startled ejaculation left her lips as the
form of a man issued from behind it.
"What does thee wish, friend?" demanded Peggy sternly. "Why does thee
not come to the door like an honest man instead of sneaking behind
it? I shall call my father."
"Don't, Peggy," came in low tones from the man. "I was watching for
you. Will you shelter an escaping prisoner, my cousin?"
"Clifford!" she cried in amazement. "Oh, Clifford!"