An irrepressible giggle came from Sally. Peggy bit her lips to keep back her laughter, and cast down her eyes quickly. The youth had included both in his speech, and, during the meal that followed, his few remarks were characterized by a like impartiality. When at length all were in the sleigh bound for the meeting-house at Freehold both girls were bubbling over with mischief.
“What spirits you two are in this morning,” observed Nurse Johnson. “Do tell us the fun.”
“’Tis thy son,” explained Sally in a whisper. “We want to see which one of us he addresses singly, because we both named the same bedpost after him, and ’tis the only way to decide our fate. He won’t speak to either of us alone,” she ended plaintively.
Nurse Johnson laughed heartily, well knowing that these girls liked her boy, and that such teasing as they indulged in was partly girlish fun, and partly a desire to cure him of his bashfulness.
“What a thing it is to be young,” she commented almost enviously. “Mary, did we ever do such things?”
“As naming bedposts, do you mean, Hannah? Truly. Many and many a post have we both named.”
“And how did it turn out?” asked Sally eagerly. Before the lady could reply Peggy spoke suddenly:
“Why do thy husband and Fairfax carry their muskets?” she inquired with surprise.
“’Tis not safe to go to meeting without them, child,” responded the matron gravely. “To such a state hath New Jersey come that ’tis impossible to go from one’s door without firelocks.”
“’Tis as it was when the country was first settled,” remarked Nurse Johnson. “Only then, ’twas fear of the savages, and now——”