“That is because you know me as I am,” he observed. “Now I cannot think of you as being anything but a little Quakeress. You see, we get our ideas of persons when we first know them, and then we cannot change.”
“‘And cannot change,’” she repeated with some amusement. “Clifford Owen, thee didn’t like me at all at first.”
“No, I did not,” he responded, and laughed again. “’Twas because I did not know you aright. Peggy, see how light-hearted you have made me. Our merriment hath caused Colonel Dayton to give us unusual attention.”
Peggy glanced at the officer. He had been watching the drill, but several times had turned to look at them. As the drill ended he came slowly toward them.
“You seem quite happy this morning,” he observed. Something in his manner struck the girl with foreboding.
“Yes, colonel,” answered Clifford. “I had an attack of the blues, but my cousin hath charmed them away. We were trying to imagine me an American.”
“We should welcome you, sir,” spoke the colonel courteously. “May I speak to you a moment, captain?”
Clifford rose instantly.
“It hath come then?” he asked quietly.