“His Excellency is most kind,” returned the governor. “And you also, David, to be so solicitous anent me. And Harriet? How is she? Zounds, David! there is a lass to be proud of! She not only warned me, but Maxwell also, and now hath come back to the camp and roused it too! Wonderful! wonderful! She hath beaten us well, Mistress Peggy.”
“Yes,” said Peggy quietly. “She hath. Finely!”
There was that in her voice that made her father come to her quickly.
“Thee is tired, Peggy,” he cried lifting her from Star’s back. “Thy mother hath been full of worriment anent thy absence, but Harriet said that she had left thee at the governor’s, so I knew that thou wert safe. Wilt light, William? We will be honored to have thy company for the night, and as much longer as ’twill please thee to remain.”
“Thank you, David.” Mr. Livingston swung himself lightly down to the ground. “I accept your hospitality with pleasure. Methought I was safe for this winter at home. Odds life! but the British grow reckless to make sallies so near the main army.”
“The more glory should the attempt have been successful,” laughed Mr. Owen. “Come in, William.”
“And this is the young lady who would give me no opportunity to thank her for her information,” said the governor, going directly to Harriet who, looking superbly beautiful, despite a certain languor, reclined in a large chair surrounded by a group of officers.
“You must thank Peggy,” declared Harriet laughing. “’Twas she who found the note. Peggy and Fleetwood, my horse, deserve all the credit, if there be any.”
“And Harriet not a bit?” he quizzed, quite charmed by her modesty. “I fancy that there are those of us who think that Harriet deserves some little herself. And now that we are at ease, let us hear all about it.”
“Hath not Peggy told you?” asked Harriet.