“Who is the relief for to-night?” queried Clifford of the guard as he closed and locked the door of the hut.
“Samuels, sir,” responded the soldier saluting.
“Tell him that I shall take charge at midnight,” commanded Clifford. “I am going to stand guard myself so as to make sure that naught goes amiss.” Then turning to Peggy he added: “I liked not the last remark of that captain. It savored too much of mischief.”
But Peggy, knowing that Drayton had uttered it solely for her comfort, made no reply. The afternoon was well on toward its close when they reached their abode, and the girl went straight to the room which she and Harriet occupied in common.
Harriet had just donned a dainty frock of dimity, and was now dusting her chestnut ringlets lightly with powder. She glanced at Peggy over her shoulder.
“There is to be company for tea, Peggy,” she said. “Two officers. Will you come down?”
“No,” answered Peggy sinking into a chair. “I would rather not, Harriet.”
“Don’t you want something to eat, Peggy?” she asked after a quick look at Peggy’s face. “You have eaten naught since breakfast. Or a cup of tea? You will be ill.”
“No, I thank thee, Harriet.” The maiden leaned her head upon her hand drearily. The world seemed very dark just then.
“Tell me about it, my cousin,” spoke Harriet abruptly. “’Twill relieve you to talk, and I like not to see you sit there so miserable.”