“’Tis pity to spoil so fine a name as Margaret by substituting Peggy for it. I much mislike the practice.”
“I do not,” responded Peggy briefly.
“I fear thee is frivolous, Margaret,” chided the other serenely.
All in a moment Peggy was amused. She reflected that this Friend must come from one of the country districts where observances as to demeanor and dress were much stricter than in the cities. She was, no doubt, conducting herself according to the light that was in her, and with this view of the situation Peggy’s ruffled feelings were soothed.
“I fear so too, Truelove,” she said laughingly. “Quite frivolous. Now thine own name: Did none ever term thee True, or Love? Either would be sweet.”
“Thee must not utter such things,” reproved the other in a shocked voice. “’Tis indelicate for maidens to even speak the word love. Where is thee going?”
“To Lancaster, to be with my father, who is stationed there.”
“Stationed there? Is not thy father of the sect of Friends? Thou art using the speech.”
“Yes; but he is in the patriot army, Truelove.”
“Defying those who are set to rule over us? Hath he not been taught to bear meekly that which Providence hath called us to suffer? Where did he learn of Fox to retort violence for violence, or that shedding of blood was justifiable? And does thee hold with these misguided Whigs, Margaret?”