“I am not so sure about that, Betty,” demurred Sally. “If there is any difference made ’tis in favor of the Tories.”
“I have heard Robert say they were favored,” observed Peggy. “It seems strange. What causes such conduct?”
“Has thee not heard?” laughed Sally, a mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes. “Know then, Mistress Peggy Owen, that it originates at headquarters. Cupid hath given our general a more mortal wound than all the hosts of Britons could. In other words, report hath it that General Arnold is to marry our Miss Peggy Shippen. ’Tis union of Whig and Tory, and the Tories are in high favor in consequence.”
“Perhaps,” said Peggy, “that the general wishes not to carry the animosities of the field into the drawing-room. I have heard that gallant soldiers never make war on our sex.”
“Well, he certainly is gallant,” conceded Sally. “There are many tales afloat concerning his prowess. I make no doubt but that thee has hit the heart of the matter. Ah! here is Robert,” as the youth rode up. “Peggy did not need thy assistance to dismount, sir,” she cried. “Betty and I lifted her from Star ourselves.”
“I expected it,” laughed Robert Dale. “Let me take Star, Peggy. I will care for her until Tom comes.”
“Oh, but,” began Peggy in expostulation, when Sally interrupted her.
“Let him take her, Peggy. Is he not an aide? ’Tis his duty.”
“Sally, thee is saucy,” laughed Peggy resigning the mare into the lad’s keeping. “Come, girls!” leading the way into the dwelling. “Now tell me everything.”
“First,” began Betty, “thee is to go with us to see a wonderful aloe tree on Fifth Day morn, but more of that anon. Where is thy mother?”