“It looks like rain.”
As he spoke the far horizon was illuminated by a succession of lurid flashes of lightning which shone with fiery brilliancy against the black masses of thunder-clouds. The muttering of thunder told that the storm was almost upon them. The fact was so evident that no living being could deny it. The lad’s observation differed so from what she had expected from him that there was no help for it, and Peggy gave way to a peal of merry laughter.
“I cry thee pardon, Friend Fairfax,” she gasped. “It doth indeed look like rain.”
For a second the young fellow stood as though not realizing the full import of what he had said, and then, as heavy drops began to patter rapidly through the trees, the girl’s merriment infected him and he too burst into laughter.
“It is raining,” he corrected himself, which remark but added to the girl’s mirth.
“Where are we?” asked his mother as Peggy took her place beside her.
“We are near His Excellency’s plantation, mother.”
“His Excellency?” cried Peggy. “Do you mean General Washington’s house, friend nurse?”
“To be sure, Peggy,” said Mrs. Johnson glancing about her. “Mount Vernon lies just beyond us on our left. We must put in there.”