“’Tis quite time you came down, my little cousin,” cried the colonel as she entered the room. “Clifford here hath been importuning me to have a surgeon, to dose you with Jesuit’s bark, and I know not what else. Zounds! the boy hath shown as much solicitude as if it had been Harriet. I had hard work to convince him that all you needed was rest.”
“Clifford hath been most kind, Cousin William,” she said. “And so have you all. I could not have been more tenderly cared for at home. Fatigue was all that ailed me, however, and I have now recovered from that.”
“Come! that’s good news,” cried William Owen. “And now you shall hear something of great import. This son of mine hath quite puffed me up with pride. It seems that Earl Cornwallis wished some boats and stores of the rebels on the Chickahominy River destroyed, and all the cattle thereabouts brought in for the use of the army. He detailed Colonel Simcoe to accomplish the matter. Now mark, Peggy! what does this same Colonel Simcoe do but ask for Captain Williams, Captain Williams, understand, to accompany him, avowing that he was one of the most promising young officers in the army. It seems also that a little skirmish took place between the rebels and Simcoe’s forces in which a certain Captain Williams particularly distinguished himself. Egad! I hear encomiums on all sides as to his conduct. Would that his commission was in his own name!”
“And what do you think, Peggy?” exclaimed Harriet before Peggy could make reply to her cousin. “Your old friend——”
“Harriet,” interrupted Clifford warningly. “We agreed not to speak of that.”
“What is it, Clifford?” asked Peggy turning to him with alarm. “Hath any of my friends met with injury? Hath any been made a prisoner? Or wounded? Or—or killed?”
“No,” he told her kindly. “None of these things has happened. One of your friends took part in the engagement which father has just mentioned. There occurred an incident after the mêlée which was curious, but ’twas nothing that should concern you. I would rather not tell you about it. You will know it soon enough.”
“If none of those things happened,” she said relieved, “there is naught else that I care about if thee does not wish me to know. Was thy side the victor, my cousin?”
“Yes; though I understand that the rebels claim it also. The loss was quite heavy on both sides for so small an action. You are arrayed for the street, Peggy? Are you going out?”
“To Nurse Johnson’s, Clifford. I saw her son while away, and she would be glad to have news of him,” Peggy explained frankly. “I ought to have gone before this.”