"I believe I should soon get well in this atmosphere. And of course, Primrose," with a certain amused meaning, "you will never rest until I am of your way of thinking and have forsworn the king. Must I become a Quaker as well?"
"Nay, that is as thou pleasest," she said with a kind of gay sententiousness.
All of life was not quite over for him, Philemon Nevitt decided when he went back to Mrs. Grayson's house. It had been quite a famous house when the Declaration of Independence was pending, and held Washington, and Hancock, and many another rebel worthy. Then it had been a great place again in the Howe winter. Madam Wetherill had generously invited him to make her house his home, but he had a delicacy about such a step.
Early in December hostilities at the south ceased and the British evacuated Charleston. Preparations were made for a discussion of the preliminaries of peace. John Adams, John Jay, Benjamin Franklin, Jefferson, and Laurens were, after some discussion, named commissioners and empowered to act. General and Mrs. Washington came up to Philadelphia.
There was not a little wrangling in the old State House, for it was not possible that everyone should agree. And if the men bickered the women had arguments as well. Some were for having an American King and degrees of royalty that would keep out commoners, but these were mostly Tory women.
There was not a little longing for gayety and gladness after the long and weary strife, the deaths, the wounded soldiers, and all the privations. The elder people might solace themselves with card-playing, but the younger ones wanted a different kind of diversion.
The old Southwark Theater was opened under the attractive title of "Academy of Polite Science." Here a grand ovation was given to General Washington, "Eugenie," a play of Beaumarchais, being acted, with a fine patriotic prologue. The young women were furbishing up their neglected French, or studying it anew, and the French minister was paid all the honors of the town. The affection and gratitude shown the French allies were one of the features of the winter.
Philemon Henry was proud enough of his pretty sister, and the still fine-looking grand dame Mrs. Wetherill. Then there was piquant Polly Wharton with her smiles and ready tongue, and even Andrew Henry was recreant enough to grace the occasion, which seemed to restore an atmosphere of amity and friendly alliance.
There was more than one who recalled the gay young André and his personations during the liveliest winter Philadelphia had ever known.
Dancing classes were started again, and the assemblies reopened. Many of the belles of that older period were married; not a few of them, like Miss Becky Franks, had married English officers, and were now departing for England since there was no more glory to be gained at war, and these heroes were somewhat at a discount.