“And your mistress might have been robbed while you were doing so,” began Robert Dale sternly. “I’ve a mind——”
“Don’t scold him, Robert,” pleaded Peggy. “The ride hath been a long one from the farm. I wonder not that he is tired. Why,” closing her bright eyes in a vain attempt to look drowsy, “I could almost go to sleep myself.”
“You spoil that darkey,” remonstrated the youth as Tom, knowing that his case was won, climbed to his place in the chaise. “Let me look at that saddle, Peggy. If it is all right we must start at once, else ’twill be night ere we reach the city. Ah! ’tis well done,” he added with approval, after an inspection of the band. “Our deserter, if such he be, understands such things. Come, Peggy!”
He adjusted the saddle, assisted the maiden to it, then mounting his own horse gave the command, and the journey was resumed.
CHAPTER II—THE HOME-COMING
| “Such is the patriot’s boast, where’er we roam, His first, best country, ever is at home.” —Goldsmith. |
The bells of Christ Church were pealing out the joyous chime
“Market-day to-morrow!”
as the girl and Robert Dale, followed immediately by the chaise and more remotely by the wagons, cantered into Front Street. It was Tuesday evening, or in Quaker parlance, Third Day, and the streets were full of stir and bustle incident to the preparation for next day’s market.
“Oh!” cried Peggy drawing a deep breath. “How good it is to be home once more! How musical sounds the rattling of even the carriages!”