“Whenever thee uses that speech, my child, I cannot resist thee,” he answered. And forthwith sat down by the table and drew for her a map showing just where the road to Liberty Hall turned from the Morris turnpike.
“Drayton and I are both on duty to-day,” announced Mr. Owen the next morning. “If you ride, lassies, it must be without escort, unless I can find some one to go with you.”
“Oh, do let us go alone, Cousin David,” pleaded Harriet. “Peggy and I have gone so a few times. There is nothing to harm us.”
“I see not how harm could befall you so long as you stay within the lines,” said Mr. Owen indulgently. “But it shall be as Lowry says.”
“And what say you, madam my cousin?” The girl turned toward the lady with pretty deference.
“Could not the ride go over for one day?” asked she. “I like not for you to ride alone.”
“’Twill be good for Peggy,” spoke Harriet with an air of concern. “She is not well to-day.”
“Is thee not, my daughter?” asked Mrs. Owen. “Thee is pale.”
“’Tis nothing to wherrit over, mother,” spoke Peggy cheerfully. “I did not sleep well, that is all. Almost do I believe with Doctor Franklin that the windows should be raised in a sleeping-room, though none but he advocates such a thing.”
“Doctor Franklin advocates naught but what he hath proved by experience to be good,” declared Mr. Owen, rising. “He is a philosopher who profits by his own teaching. I think ’twould be best for the girls to go, wife.”