“He wants Truelove, Peggy,” cried Harriet her eyes dancing with mischief. “Where is that bonnet?” She caught it up as she spoke, tying it again under her chin. “Does that please thee better, friend youth?” she asked turning toward the young man roguishly.
“Would that I were a limner to paint you,” burst from the young fellow impulsively.
Harriet smiled charmingly as she swept him an elaborate courtesy.
“In that thee does not agree with my cousin, friend. She doth not consider the bonnet becoming. In truth, I fear me that I did give her rather a bad quarter of an hour when I wore it.”
“Harriet?” exclaimed Mrs. Owen looking out of the calash which by this time had come up to where they were. “Why, child, how came thee here? Robert thought——”
“Yes, I know,” cried Harriet. “I know what Robert thought, but ’tis as you see, madam my cousin. If I may ride with you I will explain all.” Into her voice there crept the supplicating quaver that Peggy remembered so well. Her mother responded instantly to the plea.
“Why, Harriet, thou art doubly welcome. Once for the stranger whom we thought thee, and again for thyself. Get right in with me, child, and tell me all that hath befallen thee. Why, ’tis long since I have seen thee.”
“How beautiful she is,” spoke Robert Dale as he and Peggy rode on after Harriet had climbed into the coach beside Mrs. Owen. “How beautiful she is!”
“Is she not?” asked Peggy eagerly. “Methinks she grows more so every time I see her. Does thee not think so too, Robert?”
“I do not know, Peggy. This is the first time I have ever seen her. When you were at Middlebrook I was with General Arnold in Philadelphia. When you were in Philadelphia I was with the army, and so you see, Peggy, this is my first glimpse of your cousin.”