“But which would it be had they not gone together to make New Jersey?” persisted Sally.
“It seems to me, miss, that for so sleepy a damsel thee is consumed with a great thirst for geographical knowledge,” was Peggy’s comment as she dipped her face in the washing bowl.
“Does thee really know, Peggy Owen?”
“I don’t, Sally. Is thee pleased?”
“Yes,” declared Sally. “I thought of course thee would be informed, as thee has traveled so much. Peggy!”
“Well?”
“Did thee name the bedposts to find who would be thy fate? And at which one did thee look? Betty and I always do it when we sleep in a strange bed.”
“Yes, Sally. And I looked at this one.” Peggy lightly touched the post nearest her.
“Why, that’s the very one I saw first,” cried Sally excitedly. “For whom did thee name it, Peggy? What if it should be the same as mine! I called it—Fairfax.”
“Fairfax,” came from Peggy at the same moment. A merry peal of laughter filled the chamber as they uttered the name in unison.