“Let’s go through the house and grounds,” suggested Peggy. “Thee would like to see them, would thee not?”
“Yes,” answered the girl. “Shall we go now, Peggy?”
The house was roomy enough to house the family comfortably without too much care in its ordering, having a wide piazza in front, with a kitchen, bakehouse and oven in the rear. There were large grounds,—part orchard, part garden, and part meadow-land. But the maidens were most pleased with the great number of flowering shrubs about the grounds.
“There are going to be heaps and heaps of roses, Harriet,” cried Peggy delightedly. “Just see the buds! The color is already beginning to show through the green.”
“I see,” replied her cousin, pausing beside a lilac bush to break off a fragrant cluster of blossoms. “I do wish I had brought my horse, Fleetwood. Your father spoke of rides, Peggy, but I see not how I can go with you.”
“Father will, no doubt, get thee a mount, Harriet. Of course ’twill not be Fleetwood, but thee won’t mind that, will thee?”
“No, Peggy.”
It was just noon when David Owen came for them. The prisoners confined at Lancaster were for the most part kept in barracks, but many were permitted at large on parole so that the streets swarmed with them. The house was but a half mile from the barracks, and this distance was soon traversed.
A strong stockade with four blockhouses, one on each corner, enclosed the barracks. Captain Drayton met them just as they passed through the stockade gates.