"Do not forget Peggy," Marjorie reminded them. "I know she will never consent to live in the city. I know it. Dear me! The shame of it all would confuse her."
"She might become accustomed to it," replied her father. "All school themselves to the mutations of life."
"Not Peggy. I know her. She will not forgive. Why, I recall quite vividly the violence of her temper and the terror of her wrath. Her own aunt, with whom she was staying for a brief space, took occasion to reprove her for a slight indiscretion. Peggy resented the correction fiercely, and leaving the house at once vowed she never would set foot into it again. That was seven years ago. She has, to my knowledge, never violated that pledge."
Her father shook his head.
"I see it all quite clearly," continued Marjorie. "The General will resent the wrong; Peggy will nurture a fierce indignation. Whatever thoughts of revenge will come to his mind she will ably promote. Have a care to her; her wrath will know no mitigation."
"He never expected the verdict," the sergeant remarked.
"How did he appear?" asked Mr. Allison.
"Splendid. As he entered the court he laughed and jested with several officers with all the self-possession of one of the eye-witnesses. Flashes of the old-time energy and courage were manifest at intervals. There was jubilation displayed on his every feature."
"He was jocose, you say?"