One held Peggy's fan, another her kerchief, a third her roses, the ones Romney had gathered for her this afternoon, and now viewed with wrath, seeing them picked to pieces by the idle fingers of young Captain Richard Snow, who, having won a place in the inner line by her side, showed a determination not to abandon it before supper.
"Never before did I know that the Huntoons were selfish!" he was murmuring.
"That they could never be!" ejaculated Peggy, with anger in her voice.
"Yet they have kept you to themselves for a whole year, you that should have shone like the sun over all Virginia."
"Poor Virginia!" mocked Peggy; "she has indeed been sadly cheated."
"You need not shine long to warm the province," said a second gallant, "since you have melted Snow in a single evening."
"Ah," answered Peggy, "snow in this part of the world never stays long, but," with a side glance under her lashes, "it is lovely while it lasts;" then catching too a self-satisfied smile upon the Captain's face, she added pertly, "but somewhat soft."
The Captain colored and glowered at his rival. "It is a misfortune," he said, stiffly, "to have a name that lends itself to jests."
"Oh," said Peggy, feeling that she had taken a liberty and anxious to make amends, "I do admire your name much."
"Really!"