“Well, if thee won’t come,” and Peggy tied the ribbons of her leghorn hat under her chin, “thee must not mind if I go.”
“I wish I were back in New York,” pouted her cousin. “’Tis slow down here. Had I known that Clifford was so well I would not have come. However, there will be some amusement when the army under Lord Cornwallis gets into quarters. I dare say father will take a house then. Of course he will want us to look after it.”
“Is thy father with Lord Cornwallis?” asked Peggy quickly.
“Of course, Peggy. The Welsh Fusileers always stay with him. When we left him at Camden he was to join Cornwallis, you remember.”
“Yes,” assented Peggy absently, “but I had forgot for the moment.”
In thoughtful mood she left the cottage. It seemed to her as though she were caught in the meshes of a web from which there was no escape. Here were Clifford and Harriet with the possibility of Colonel Owen appearing upon the scene at any moment. When he came Peggy knew that she would be unable to do anything. If only she could reach the American lines, she thought, a way would be opened for her to proceed to Philadelphia.
The air was rife with rumors concerning the capture and narrow escapes of the postriders. It seemed almost next to impossible for them to get through to Philadelphia! How then could she, a mere girl, hope to accomplish what they could not?
“And yet,” Peggy mused, “I must try. I dare not wait until Cousin William comes for he will take Harriet and me with him wherever he goes. I know not how it will end.”
She had reached the college campus by this time, and now paused thoughtfully looking up at the statue of Norborne Berkeley, Lord Botetourt,—most beloved of all the royal governors,—which had been erected on the green.
“I bid you good-morrow, little cousin,” spoke a voice pleasantly, and Peggy started to find Clifford beside her.