“Child,” he said with compassion, “I am thinking of a time when a young girl came to me through winter’s snow and cold to plead for the life of her father. Do you remember what she said when I told her that I could not exchange a spy for him, valiant though the deeds of that father had been? She said, ‘I know that thee must refuse me. Thee would be false to thy trust were thee to do otherwise.’ Hath my little maiden whose answer so warmed my heart with its patriotism that I have never forgotten it, changed so that now she shields a spy? I cannot believe it.”
“Thee presses me so hard,” she cried wringing her hands. “Let me have a little time, I entreat thee. It could not matter to let me have until to-morrow. Just until to-morrow, Friend Washington.”
He gazed at her thoughtfully. Her anguish was so apparent that none could help being touched. That there was much behind it all was very evident, and so presently he said:
“You shall have until to-morrow, Mistress Peggy. ’Tis against all precedent, but for what you have done before I will grant your request. But there will be no further delay.”
“Thank thee, sir,” said she weeping. “I will ask none.” She spoke timidly after a moment. “What am I to do, sir? Thee will not wish me to stay for dinner if I am under suspicion.”
“Yes,” he said. “Let all go on as before until the matter is unraveled. Can you compose yourself sufficiently to wait upon Mrs. Washington? The dinner hour hath come.”
As Peggy replied in the affirmative, he called an orderly, and gave him some directions, then escorted the maiden into the dining-room. The Quaker habit of self-control enabled the girl to bear the curious glances cast at her pale face, but the dinner was a trying ordeal. She had grown to love the gay circle that gathered at the table, and to count a day spent with the brilliant men and women as one to be remembered; to-day she was glad when the time came for her to go home.
Harriet had been very vivacious all through the afternoon, but as they set forth accompanied by the same aide who had escorted them to the mansion she relapsed into silence. It had been Peggy’s intention to tell the whole story to her father and mother in Harriet’s presence as soon as she reached home, but there was company in the drawing-room, and as she stood hesitating what to do her mother hastened to them.
“How tired you both look,” she cried in alarm. “To bed ye go at once. Nay, David,” as Mr. Owen entreated a delay. “’Tis early, I know, but too much excitement is not to be endured. And both girls will be the better for a long sleep. So to bed! To bed!”
And with some reluctance on the part of both maidens they went slowly up to the little chamber under the eaves.