"I am glad to know the manner of man you do prefer," said Romney, stiffly, and they went on in silence for several minutes, and Mistress Peggy quite at her ease nevertheless. Finally she broke the pause, saying, "Do you remember what night the last was?"
"Surely I do, for I noted it on Governor Brent's order for Ingle's arrest posted on the tavern door. 'Twas the twentieth of January."
"Ay, the twentieth; and what night was that?"
"In truth I know not. Being no Papist I keep scant account of Saints' days."
"Nor I either for the most part; but this was a very particular night indeed." Then, with great impressiveness, "It was the Eve of St. Agnes."
"And what of that?"
"Why, 'tis on that night every maid may see her future husband,—that is, if she have the wit to go about it the right way."
"And did you go about it the right way?"
Peggy nodded.
"And after what fashion was that?"