“Well, why doesn’t thee?” asked Peggy suddenly.
“Peggy!” Sally sat up very straight and stared at her. “Just what does thee mean?”
“Just what I say, Sally. He is at the Bunch of Grapes. If thee wishes to see him I will take thee there. Then thee can have thy chance.”
“But—but——” The color flooded Sally’s face from brow to chin. Presently she laughed. “Well, he couldn’t run away from me, could he? He would have to listen. I’ll do it. ’Twill be the last opportunity I shall ever have of clearing myself. I would not dare do it only, being bound, he cannot help but listen. Come, Peggy!”
“Bound?” exclaimed Peggy amazed. “What put such a notion in thy head, Sally? He was not when we came from Lancaster.”
“That was because he was riding. ’Tis only since he entered the city. Did thee not know that the Minister of War hath charge of him now? ’Tis he who hath insisted upon extra precautions being taken on account of the Tories. ’Tis talked everywhere on the streets, Peggy, that he is bound.”
Peggy instantly became troubled.
“That would be severe treatment,” she said. “Methought ’twas understood that he was to be granted every indulgence consistent with his safe-keeping. I like not to think of him being bound. Let’s go, Sally.”
Quickly they made themselves ready, and then proceeded to the Bunch of Grapes Tavern in Third Street. Sally alternated between timidity and assurance.
“With the shadow of death upon him he ought to wish to right every injustice that he hath done,” she remarked as they reached the inn.