“Oh, well,” spoke Harriet lightly. “Don’t let’s talk about it, Peggy. I dare say Sir Guy Carleton and your General Washington will arrive at some understanding regarding the affair. Is that your mother’s coach coming?”
“Yes. She will be glad to see thee, Harriet. She is fond of thee. And Robert Dale is beside her. Thee will like him, Harriet. Indeed, I know not how one could help it.”
“Indeed, my cousin?” Harriet’s brows went up quizzically. “I thought you were all for Captain Drayton? I rather prefer this Major Dale myself. He hath more manners than John Drayton ever had.”
Peggy’s face flushed, but she observed quietly:
“They are both dear lads, Harriet. Thee will see John also at Lancaster. Father said that he had been sent there.”
“Then it will be quite like old times, Peggy. At Middlebrook there were John Drayton and your father to take us about. If we have Robert Dale, in addition to Clifford, we should have a gay time.”
“Perhaps,” was Peggy’s answer.
A look of intense amazement appeared upon Robert Dale’s face as he rode up. He had left a demure Quakeress with Peggy, and returned to find this beautiful, radiant girl. Both girls laughed at his bewildered expression.
“’Tis my Cousin Harriet Owen, Robert,” explained Peggy. “She hath assumed this dress that she might go through to Lancaster with safety to see her brother, Clifford.”
“But—but Truelove Davis?” The youth was plainly nonplused.