“Thee forgot the quince conserve, Peggy,” said Sally trying vainly to act as though Peggy was alone. “Thy mother sent me for it. She told Sukey to come, but I jumped up and said that I would get it.”
“Sally, this is Clifford,” spoke Peggy. “And oh, he won’t hurry. He talks of trouble and worry when he should be doing. Clifford, this is my dearest friend, Sally Evans.”
“Truly thee would better be in haste,” said Sally, making her best bow. “Thee must see that every moment adds to thy cousin’s distress, and also to thy danger. I marvel that the sheriff’s men have left us so long alone. Mother and I will in truth welcome thee.”
“But I have no claim upon you,” he expostulated. “For you to take such a risk for an Englishman——”
“As an Englishman thee hasn’t a particle of claim, of course,” interrupted Sally. “As an Englishman thee deserves anything that might happen, but as a human being in distress thee has every claim upon us. Now hadn’t thee better be moving? Where is the conserve, Peggy?”
“How do I know that I can trust you?” he said abruptly.
“Clifford!” exclaimed Peggy indignantly, but Sally laughed, and swept him a deep courtesy.
“Peggy must have told thee what an ogress I am,” she said. “Know then, Friend Clifford, that I have a deep and dark dungeon where I cast all Englishmen of thy profession. If thee is afraid thee would better take thy chances with the night and storm.”