“But we are considered the more intellectual,” spoke Peggy quickly, who could not bear to hear the least aspersion against her beloved city. “’Tis often commented upon by those who come among us. Shall we turn into High Street, Harriet? Or does thee prefer to keep down Chestnut?”
“High Street by all means, Peggy. I think it would be the finest street in the world if it were not for the markets in the middle of it.”
“Does thee?” cried Peggy much pleased. “Why, I thought thee didn’t like Philadelphia?”
“I do like the city. The streets are so broad and regular, and these footways are like those we have in London. ’Tis the people that are not to my liking.” The girl sighed.
For a moment Peggy could not answer for indignation; then, choking back a crushing retort, she replied sagely:
“The people are well enough, Harriet. ’Tis thy feeling which is not right. Thee certainly has the megrims to-day.”
“Is not that Mr. Morris’s house?” asked Harriet as they reached the southeast corner of High and Front Streets.
“Yes,” replied Peggy gazing mournfully at the mansion indicated. “’Twas there also that General Arnold lived when he had charge of the city. I went there to one of his teas, Harriet. The city rang with his prowess at that time. Next to General Washington I liked him best of any of our generals, though I like not to speak of him now. Thy general, Sir William Howe, lived there when thy people held Philadelphia.”
“Ah!” said Harriet surveying the residence more intently. “So that is where he lived, is it? ’Tis a fine dwelling.”
“Mr. Morris hath made many improvements since he bought it, though it hath always been considered one of the best in the city,” Peggy informed her.