“Are you two talking about those huts yonder?” questioned Clifford, who had been riding with Mr. Owen. “Cousin David says the American army camped here in the winter of ’79.”
“We know it, my cousin,” answered Peggy. “This is where we first met. Harriet and I passed that winter here.”
“Tell me about it,” he said. “There are many things concerning that winter I would know.”
So with each girl supplementing the other the story of Middlebrook was told. Harriet did not spare herself in the recital. With amazing frankness she related how she had tried to capture both General Washington and Governor Livingston. Her brother listened in wide-eyed astonishment.
“And father let you engage in such emprises?” he queried with pained surprise.
Harriet smiled.
“I liked the danger, Cliff,” she said. “’Tis risk that gives the zest to all undertakings. Life is like food: insipid without some spice. Beside, here was Peggy to rescue me from paying the penalty of my acts. Poor Peggy! she thought she had fallen upon evil days when I carried her off to New York.”
“Poor Peggy indeed!” he agreed briefly; then relapsed into thought.
The road beyond Middlebrook was new to both maidens, and had they not been saddened by the knowledge that each mile traversed brought them nearer to the place where Clifford must be left they would have been delighted with the romantic scenery. Soon the heights of Morristown came into view. A few miles to the eastward of Morristown lay the little town of Chatham. Between the heights and the village lay the cantonment of the Jersey line, Clifford’s destination.