“’Tis as sweet and modish as can be,” cried Sally generously. “Thee will outshine all us females, Peggy.”
“Thee can’t mean that, Sally,” reproved Peggy flushing at such praise. “I know that thee is partial to thy friend, but that is going too far.”
“But ’tis the truth,” answered Sally. “Would that I had seen that fabric, and I would have chosen it for my new frock. I did get a new one after all. I teased mother into getting it by telling her that thee was to have a new one.”
“Oh! did thee?” cried Peggy. “Why, Sally, this was mother’s wedding gown. We went to get a frock, but found the prices beyond us. Mother was determined that I should have the gown though, so she gave me this.”
“Mother was going to get it anyway, Peggy,” said Sally quickly, seeing her friend’s dismay. “It might not have been until later but I was to have a dress this winter. So thee must not think it thy fault that I got it. Would though that I had not. I wonder if my mother hath a wedding gown. This is vastly pretty.”
“Is ‘t not?” cried Peggy. “And, Sally, I hear there is to be dancing after the tea at the general’s. It is strange for Quakers to attend such affairs. Why, does thee not remember how we used to wish to attend the weekly assemblies, and how it was spoke against in the meeting?”
“It is strange,” assented Sally, “but Quakers go everywhere now with the world’s people. What was it that Master Benezet used to teach us? Something anent the times, was it not?”
“‘O tempora! O mores,’” quoted Peggy. “‘O the times! O the manners!’ How long ago it seems since we went to Master Benezet’s school. Heigh ho! would I were attending it again!”
“Why, Peggy Owen, would thee wish to miss this tea?” demanded her friend. “For my part I am monstrously glad that I am through with books; for now I am going to——” She paused abruptly. “But ’tis to remain secret for a time,” she added.
“Sally! a secret from me?” exclaimed Peggy reproachfully. “I thought thee told me everything.”