The Greydons held a position of unquestionable influence in the upper society of Philadelphia. James Greydon, Mollie’s grandfather, had been Secretary of William Penn, the founder; then deputy Governor, then executor of Penn’s vast landed estate. Consequently, the Greydons were lordly proprietors, for the thrifty grandfather had bought his lands from the Indians. Thus a card for a reception at Dorminghurst became almost a command.
On this serene afternoon in May the broad avenue of hemlocks seemed more beautiful than ever. The liveried equipages of the FitzMaurices, the Millings, the Redmans, the Binghams, the Adamses, the Chews, the Carrolls, the Pinckneys, the Shippens, the Peterses, the Arnolds came rolling up to the pillared entrance and gay guests alighted, passed hurriedly to the boudoirs and came down to greet Dr. and Mrs. Greydon, and not the least,—Miss Mollie.
That young lady was in an anxious mood. She greeted each arrival in a very sweet and cordial manner, but she cast constant glances out into the arched hallway to see if Roderick Barclugh were among the latest arrivals. She eagerly scanned every face and at last saw him come with James Wilson, the lawyer.
Mollie watched him ascend the curved staircase on one side and return with the line of guests on the other. He was fashionably dressed in his powdered wig and queue and his shining buckles and lace frills. No gentlemen present bore a more distinguished appearance than Roderick Barclugh. She watched him shake the hand of her father and her mother, and, when her turn came, she offered her hand with delight in her eyes as she said:
“I am so glad that you remembered my special invitation.”
There was a slight flush in her cheeks, and she knew that Barclugh approved of her gown and her hair by the satisfied glances that his eyes made. He looked into her eyes as he said softly:
“This is a great pleasure, to see you again.”
Roderick Barclugh bowed profoundly and passed among the guests. He was in the midst of a group who were gossiping about the Arnolds.
“What do you think, Mr. Barclugh,” asked Anne Milling, approaching Barclugh in her most bewitching manner, “the court-martial of General Arnold has found him guilty of misconduct in his office as Commander of Philadelphia and General Washington has been ordered to make a public reprimand. The dear, brave General! He has been made to endure more than he can stand. Don’t you think so, Mr. Barclugh?”
“General Arnold surely is brave, but has he not been extravagant?” was Barclugh’s reply in a tone indicating his aversion to the subject.