This was nearer truth than she dreamed. Had she but known the condition of the army at Morristown she would not have wondered at the boy’s voraciousness. She hovered about him, attending to his needs carefully, longing but not daring to ask the many questions that crowded to her lips. It would not do to risk conversation of any sort in the house. There were too many coming and going. As it was the servants gazed at her in surprise, curious as to her interest in a teamster. The meal finished, Drayton rose with a word of thanks, and crossed to the fire which blazed upon the kitchen hearth.
Peggy felt a sudden apprehension as she heard Harriet’s step in the hall. What if she should enter the kitchen? Would Drayton be safe from the keen scrutiny of her sharp eyes? The lad himself seemed to feel no uneasiness, but hung over the roaring fire of hickory logs as though reluctant to leave its warmth. Making a pretense of replenishing the fire Peggy whispered:
“Go, go! Harriet is coming.” Drayton roused himself with a start, drew his wrappings close about him, and, giving her a significant look, passed through the outside door just as Harriet entered the room from the passage.
“Who was that, Peggy?” she asked sharply.
“The man with the wood,” answered Peggy busied about the fire. “I gave him something to eat.”
“Mercy, Peggy! Is it necessary to feed such riffraff? They are all a pack of rebels. No wonder father complains of expense.”
Peggy’s cheeks flamed with indignation. “Would thee send any one away in such weather without first giving him food?” she demanded. “’Twould be inhuman!”
“And I suppose thee wouldn’t treat a Britisher so,” mimicked Harriet who was plainly in a bad humor. “Did father tell you that Sir Henry Clinton was to dine here to-day?”
“Yes,” returned Peggy gravely. “’Tis fortunate that ’tis market day, for there are some things needed. I shall have to use the sleigh. Thee won’t mind? I cannot get into the city otherwise.”
“Oh, take it, by all means,” replied Harriet. “I wouldn’t go out in this weather for a dozen Sir Henrys. La, la! ’tis cold!” She shivered in spite of the great fire. “What doth father wish to see Sir Henry alone for?” she asked abruptly. “He told me but now that he did not desire my company after dinner. And I had learned a new piece on the harpsichord, too,” she ended pettishly.