“Does she mean by that that thee has not eaten in all that time, Robert?” demanded Betty slyly. “In truth ’twould seem so. I do believe that she hath done naught but move betwixt spit and oven this whole morning.”
“I think I shall do justice to all such preparations,” said the youth smiling. “I fancy that the most of us in the army would find little difficulty in keeping Peggy busy all the time.”
“Hark!” exclaimed Sally. “I thought I heard some one call.”
As the youth and the maidens assumed a listening attitude there came a faint “Hallo!” above the tumult of the wind. Sally ran to one of the windows that faced Chestnut Street, and flattened her nose against the glass in the endeavor to see out.
“’Tis a man on horseback,” she cried. “He is stopping in front of the house. Now he is dismounting. Who can it be?”
“Some traveler, I make no doubt,” remarked Peggy, coming to her side. “The storm hath forced him to stop for shelter. Ah! there is Tom ready to take his horse. He should have cleaned the steps, but he waited, I dare say, hoping that it would stop snow—— Why! it’s father——” she broke off abruptly, making a dash for the door. “Tell mother, Sally.”
“David, this is a surprise,” exclaimed Mrs. Owen, coming quickly in answer to Sally’s call, and reaching the sitting-room just as a tall man, booted and spurred, entered it from the hall. “Thee must be almost frozen after being exposed to the fury of such a storm.”
“’Tis good to be out of it, wife,” answered Mr. Owen, greeting her with affection. He stretched his hands luxuriantly toward the fire as Peggy relieved him of his hat and riding coat, and glanced about appreciatively. “How cozy and comfortable it is here! And what a merry party! It puts new heart into a man just to see so much brightness.”
“We are to have pepper-pot, Mr. Owen,” Betty informed him, drawing forward a large easy chair for his use while Sally ran to lay an extra plate on the table. “Doesn’t it smell good?”