Certainly the afternoon was beautiful. People were beginning with gardens, and climbing roses were showing green stems. And the tall box alleys were full of new sprouts, betraying a great contrast to the deep green that had withstood the frosts of many winters.
There was a ferry over Dock Creek; indeed, there were but few bridges, but being ferried over was more to their taste. Then they walked up Society Hill, where some fine, substantial houses were being put up. There were the city squares, and, far over, a great ragged waste, with tree stumps everywhere.
"That is what you did in Howe's winter—cut down all the beautiful woods—Governor's woods," Primrose said resentfully. "There are traces of you everywhere. It will take years and years for us to forget it or remedy it."
"But do you not suppose the soldiers around Valley Forge cut down the woods as well? You would not have them freeze. And the poor men here wanted a little warmth," said Phil.
"There was plenty of waste land where you could have gone," in her severest tone.
"I thought myself there were many acts of vandalism," commented Vane. "But I believe it is the rule of warfare to damage your enemy all you can. Think of the magnificent cities the old Greeks and Romans destroyed utterly."
"They were half savages, idolaters, believing in all sorts of gods. And you pretended to be Christians!"
"You were so sweet a moment ago, Primrose," said her brother.
"Unalloyed sweetness is cloying. You need salt and spice as well. And I always feel afraid I shall forgive you too easily when I look at those poor stumps and pass the jail."
"You can remember all one's sins easily," Phil retorted rather gloomily.