“Oh, the edict against the other sex is revoked now,” declared Betty. “And didn’t we always have better times when Robert was with us than when we were alone?”
“We wouldn’t now, though,” answered Sally. “He doesn’t speak French, Betty.”
“Sally, thee is dreadful! Don’t listen to her, Peggy. She is always trying to tease.”
“I shall not, Betty,” consoled Peggy, casting a mischievous glance at Sally. “Never mind. Thee is patriotic, anyway.”
“How?” asked Sally as Betty, foreseeing some further jest, would not speak.
“By helping to cement the French Alliance, of course,” laughed Peggy.
“Thee is worse than Sally,” pouted Betty turning to look out of the window. “Peggy, is thee to go in a one-horse cabriolet? Because there is one coming up Chestnut Street now. Let me see! A woman is within and it is driven by a young man. Heigh-ho! ’Tis a promising outlook. There is a baggage wagon following with two men on the seat. Thee will be well escorted, Miss Peggy Owen.”
“It must be the nurse,” exclaimed Peggy. “And mother is calling, too. Come, girls.”
They ran lightly down-stairs, and soon Mrs. Johnson, the nurse, was shown in. She was a large, motherly-looking woman of middle age, with a pleasant smile and kind eyes. Peggy felt drawn to her at once.
“And so this is to be my young companion,” she said, drawing the girl toward her as Mrs. Owen presented her daughter. “I predict that we shall be great friends, my dear. Of a truth ’twas most pleasing news when the doctor told me that I should have your company. The journey is long, ’twill take all of ten days to reach Williamsburg, so that unless there is conversation to enliven the way, ’tis apt to be most tedious. Now, Fairfax, my son, is an excellent escort but an indifferent talker. He looks well to the needs of the horses, and we shall not suffer for lack of attention, save and except conversation from him. That we shall have to furnish ourselves.”