“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.”