“Oh, must we go?” cried Harriet. “Please, Cousin David, may I not stay with you?”
“Tut, tut, lass!” returned he. “Refuse His Excellency’s invitation to dine? ’Twould be monstrous unmannerly, and that thee is not, Harriet.”
“But I would rather stay with you,” she pleaded, and her dismay was very apparent.
“And deprive the general of the pleasure of thanking thee for thy heroism?” he asked. “He wishes to interview you both about the note, I dare say. He said the matter would need attention.”
“I don’t know anything about it, my cousin,” she objected almost in tears. “’Twas Peggy who found it.”
“Nay; thee must go, Harriet,” he said in such a tone that she knew that ’twas useless to object further.
The two girls went up-stairs to dress. It was the first time that they had been alone together since they had found the note on Wednesday. To Peggy’s surprise, Harriet’s hands were shaking so that she could not unfasten her frock. A feeling of vague alarm thrilled Peggy at the sight. She went to her cousin quickly.
“Harriet,” she cried, “what is it? Why do you tremble so?”
“Peggy,” answered Harriet, sinking into a chair with a little sob, “I am afraid. I am so afraid!”
“Afraid?” repeated the amazed Peggy. “Of what, Harriet?”