He crossed over to Primrose and would have taken her hand, but she clung closer to Madam Wetherill, looking at him with half-frightened eyes.
"Nay, do not be so doubtful, my pretty child. If I have convinced your protectress, and I think General Howe has sufficient credentials to vouch for me, you may safely acknowledge me. At least, shake hands. I will prove the kindest of brothers if you do but give me a chance."
She glanced questioningly at her aunt and then venturedone small hand, while her cheeks flushed in a delicate pink.
He bent over and carried the hand to his lips.
"We must be friends, little Primrose, for now we shall see a good deal of each other, I hope. Will you not give me one smile? As I remember your mother, she was most generous of her sweetness."
"The child is strange of course. And she hath not heard much about you."
"Is it truly my brother?" She glanced up at Madam Wetherill as if not convinced.
"I have no doubt. I think I had an impression at once," smiling. "And when she is better acquainted——"
"But I do not like General Howe to take possession of our city. Patty says the streets are full of redcoats and I cannot go out."
She stiffened herself with great dignity, and now she looked squarely at him out of beautiful eyes.
"Who may Patty be? And you will see that General Howe has a right to be here. He will soon settle the rebels if he keeps on as he has begun."
"I am a rebel. And your general shall not conquer me. He is cruel and wicked!"
"Primrose!" said her aunt, though much amused.
"You have found a foe already," laughed Gilbert Vane. "One you cannot fight, but must persuade."
"But my Cousin Andrew has promised to fight for me. He is larger than you, and I like him very much."
She looked so spirited and daring that he wanted to clasp her in his arms and conquer her with kisses. He would soon oust this Cousin Andrew in her affections.
"Little girls must not be so fierce," reproved Madam Wetherill. "We have talked on all sides and the child hears it. Then some of my old servants are strong patriots, rebels I suppose they will be called. Your friend is right—a little patience is best for conviction."
"At least you will let me try to win your regard?" and he glanced steadily at his little sister, but she kept silent.
"It is best that girls should not be too forward, or too easily won. We shall hope to see thee often. Thou wilt meet people of many beliefs here; some ardent Tories, some as ardent rebels, perhaps. I place no restrictions on the beliefs of my friends. Now, Primrose, run away to thy work. I have still a few matters I wish to talk about."
"Surely you will wish me a farewell in a kindly fashion?" exclaimed her brother.
Primrose had walked across the room with great dignity. At the door she paused to bestow a smile and courtesy on her aunt, then a very dignified one on each of the gentlemen, holding up one side of her skirt daintily.
The American forces had not gone on triumphantly. The two battles, fierce as they had been, had not decided anything. After the battle at Germantown Howe broke up his encampment there and proceeded to Philadelphia, resolved to make that his winter quarters. To be secure against starvation it was necessary to reduce Fort Mercer and Fort Mifflin, since supplies were to be brought into the city that way.
Washington prepared to go into winter quarters at Whitemarsh, but later moved to Valley Forge, that he might the better afford protection to the stores at Reading, and the Congress that had fled to York. The defeats had cast a gloom over the Continentals, but they were not utterly disheartened. In spite of his wound the Marquis de Lafayette carried himself hopefully, and helped inspire the waning courage of the men.
The news of the glorious victory at Saratoga was sedulously kept from them for some time. There were quarters to construct, wounded to tend, and winter at hand.
Philadelphia was crowded. Hospitals were full, prisons overflowing. The English settled themselves for the winter, many in the belief that the spring would see the crushing out of the rebellion.
In this serene hope they began to cast about for amusements. They found not a few of the Tory young women charming and affable. They resolved upon weekly balls at the city tavern. There were club dinners and gay suppers at the Indian Queen, and Ferry tavern, that often degenerated into orgies. For the ruder sort there were cockpits, where the betting ran high, and no end of dice and card-playing. There was among many of the lower classes an insolent revolt against an established order of things that had not brought them prosperity, and tradesmen had felt the pinch of hard times severely. The influx of British gold was hailed with delight, and some timorous souls that had longed for the larger liberty, yet feared the Colonies could never win independence, went over to the other side with sudden fervor.
Those of royalist proclivities opened their houses to the gayeties that swept over the town like sudden intoxication. There were private balls and dinners and tea-drinking, with no end of scarlet-coated young officers, and card-playing was rampant. The shabby little theater on South Street was no longer relegated to opprobrium, but put in some repair and made a place of fashionable entertainment; the versatile Englishmen turning their hands and their wits to almost anything in that line, from scene-painting to acting in comedy, farce, or tragedy.
It was soon noised about that Madam Wetherill's grand niece and protégé had a brother among the English officers. Many people could recall the fine old Quaker Philemon Henry, and his pretty second wife Bessy Wardour.
"Surely you are in luck, Madam Wetherill," said bright, inconsequent Sally Stuart. "Will you not begenerous enough to give us a peep at this handsome captain? My mother remembers his father well. And what does the child say to this fine surprise?"
"She is not as enthusiastic as one might suppose."
"Ah! I remember; she is quite a little rebel, and her patriotism becomes her well, since she is but a child, but she will mend of that."
"Thou shalt see the young man, with pleasure. I shall choose some of the young people who have a hankering for scarlet."
"Well, they are going to give us a gay winter, and, Heaven knows, we have been dull as ditch water. The theater has been refitted. And there is talk of racing again and no end of diversion."
So Madam Wetherill gave a dancing party and asked the favorite young women of the day, since Captain Nevitt had proposed to bring some brother officers. Miss Franks and Miss Kitty Ross and Betty Randolph were to be among the belles of the evening, and many were pleading for invitations.
"I hardly know how to manage," the Mistress said with a sigh to Janice Kent. "Many have had soldiers quartered upon them with hardly a moment's notice. Mrs. Norris was relieved, it is true, and Lord Cornwallis proved himself a gentleman. Elizabeth Drinker protested since her husband was from home, but it was not regarded. And we have been favored, whether from the influence of this young Nevitt or not, I cannot decide. I like not to be so identified with the Tory party, but I cannot be ungracious to my little girl's half-brother and the child Bessy Henry loved. I think he must favor his mother's people; he has not much of the old Henry blood in him."
"I am not sure it is so bad a thing, madam, for we shall be less suspected of kindliness to the poor fellows who need it so much. And we may hear news to their benefit occasionally."
"Ah, if a turn could be brought about for our brave men! I hear that Mrs. Washington is to join her husband and share his hardships. It will put courage into many a loyal fellow that misfortunes have well-nigh disheartened."
So the great apartment was cleared of some of its ornaments that there might be more room for dancing, in that and the spacious hall.
Primrose had been curiously distant and wary. It had amused her brother very much, and he teased her about being a little rebel and said he should take her to England to cure her of such folly and that she should be presented at Court. For certainly the Continentals could not hold out when all the principal cities were taken and trade stopped.
He was proud of her beauty, and his flattery might have turned the head of almost any child.
"I shall insist upon taking her back to England with me," he announced to his friend. "And this fine old lady, Madam Wetherill, can be induced to go along, I think, when she realizes the hopelessness of the cause, for she is, by birth, an Englishwoman. And Primrose, it is true, will be quite an heiress. What a pretty name her mother gave her, and it seems that in it she outwitted my father. He was one of the strait sort as I remember him, and my pretty stepmother planned many a bit of indulgence for me, and hid some childish pranks from his eyes that would have brought severe punishment."
"You have good reason, then, to care for her andlove the child. It seems to me a curious thing that your father should let you go abroad—his only son."
"But, if he had lived, he might have had half a dozen sons. He was a hale, hearty man, much too fine looking for a Friend. You must go with me to see the portrait of him, which, with some other keepsakes, belongs to me."
"And these cousins they talk about?"
"Yes, I must pay my respects to them. The days go so rapidly that one does not get through half one's plans. I had no idea there was so much interest in this old town of William Penn's. The winter will be a merry one."
"It seems not much like war," returned Gilbert Vane thoughtfully.
The party at Madam Wetherill's was a most brilliant affair. It seemed as if every conclave except the Continentals were represented. There were staid Friends in the rich attire of the better class; some in drab, others in coat and breeches of brown velveteen and silk stockings, and the younger men with various touches of worldly gauds. There were other citizens in the picturesque attire of the day, with embroidered satin waistcoats, powdered hair, and side rolls beside the queue, lace ruffles and gold lace and gold buttons.
And the belles were not to be outdone by the beaux. There were gowns of almost every degree of elegance, in brocades and glistening satins, wrought with roses or silver thread, turned back over beautiful petticoats. Gowns of Venise silk and velvet, with elbow sleeves and ruffles of rich lace, and square corsages filled in with stiffened lace called a modesty fence, through which the younger girls ran a narrow ribbon that was tied in a cluster of bows.
The hair was worn high on the head, with puffs and rolls held in place with great gilt or silver pins, and an aigrette nodding saucily from the top. The elder women had large caps of fine and costly material. Few were brave enough to go without, lest they might be accused of aping youthfulness. There were fans of white, gray, and lavender silk, bordered with peacocks' eyes, and their fair owners needed no Japanese training to flirt with them.
There had been numerous discussions about Primrose. Her brother longed to see her attired quite as a young lady.
"Nay, they grow up fast enough," protested Madam Wetherill. "And there will be a host of town beauties to whom you must pay court, who would be jealous of such a chit and think her forward."
"But she dances so beautifully. I can never be grateful enough that you have had her so well instructed, and brought up a churchwoman. And really she must dance. Lieutenant Vane is almost as much smitten with her as I am."
"The more need for me to be careful, then."
"Nay, I shall guard her well, for I want to take her to England fancy-free, so that she may have her pick among titles. She is fast outgrowing childhood. And there is nothing so sweet as an opening bud."
"Mine shall not be pulled open before the time. Remember she has guardians, and thou art not one. Her Quaker uncle may have a word. He hath only lent her to me."
"We will settle that with other questions," the young man replied laughingly.
That very morning he had brought her in a pair ofpretty bracelets that had delighted her mightily. He clasped them on her slender wrists.
"Now you are my prisoner," he said. "I will not let you go until I have a sweet kiss from your rosy lips."
She turned her cheek to him gravely.
"Nay, that will not do. Truly thou art stingy of kisses. And I am thy own brother!"
"I am not thy prisoner!" turning her eyes full upon him with a spirit of resistance.
"Yes, indeed. I will get a requisition from General Howe that you shall be delivered over to my keeping."
"But I will not go. Americans are born free."
"Yes, I have heard that they so declared. And equal, which is very amusing, seeing there are slaves and work people of all sorts, with no more manners than a plowboy at home. And elegant women like your Madam Wetherill and that charming Miss Franks and the handsome Shippens. Still, I adore thy spirit."
"Thou mayst take back thy gifts. I shall never go to London with thee."
"Oh, Primrose! What does possess thee to be so cruel! I am half a Friend for thy sake, and our soldiers laugh at my thee and thou. What else shall I do to win thee?"
"Thou shalt fight on the side of my country instead of against it. I cannot love a traitor."
"Nay, I am no traitor. There was no question of this war when I was sent to England. There are many Friends siding with us and longing for peace and prosperity. It is these in arms against us who have forgotten their fealty to their King. They are the ones to be called traitors."
"Nay, there is no king here. And many of them came hither to be free and away from the King's rule, and they have the right to choose."
"What a saucy little rebel! And yet thou art so daintily sweet! Love me just a little bit because thy mother did. Many a time she kissed me. And hast thou no word of praise for the bracelets?"
"They are pretty, but I will not be a prisoner for their sake," and her eyes sparkled with resolution and a spice of mischief.
"Thou shalt be quite free if thou wilt wear them for my sake and give me a tender thought. Come, can I not be liked a little? I have heard thee declare an ardent love for the woman Patty. Am I of less account than a serving woman?"
There was something persuasive and plaintive in his tone.
"Patty makes my clothes and helps me with lessons when they are difficult, and she knows how to cure earache and pains, and lets me go with her to do errands, and tucks me up at night. And she has promised to keep watch that no British soldier shall surprise us."
"It is a long list of virtues truly, but I will see the house is not molested, and I might help with lessons. As for the earache—I do not think such pretty ears can ever ache."
There were some quivering lines about her mouth, and now both laughed.
"And I will dance with thee to-night. Some day I will come and sing songs with thee. And all I ask is one poor little kiss in return for my gift."
"I would not give away a poor little kiss," she answered with well-feigned indignation.
"No. Forgive me. It shall be the sweetest thing in the whole wide world. Primrose, I am glad I can never be a lover to sue to thee. Thou wilt wring many a heart. And now I must go. It is a pleasure to me to bring thee pretty gauds, whether thou carest for me or not."
"I do care for thee," she said softly, a delicious color stealing over her face.
"Then one kiss."
She stood up on tiptoe and her soft, rosy lips met his.
"Heaven bless thee, little Primrose. Thou art very dear to me. Go show thy gift to Madam Wetherill. I asked her permission beforehand."
She ran to Madam Wetherill's room, holding up both arms. "See!" she cried.
"Yes. It is a new fashion, and I said when thou wert old enough for rings and gewgaws there is all thy mother's. But he coaxed so to give thee something. I hope thou thanked him prettily."
She hung her head, while a warm color came into her face, and raised her eyes hesitatingly.
"I would not be pleased at first because he said I was a prisoner, and that Americans were traitors."
"He loves to tease thee, Primrose. Yet he has a deep and fervent affection for thee."
Primrose hid her face on the ample shoulder. "I kissed him," she murmured softly. "Was it very wrong? For he coaxed so about it."
"Why, no, child. Thine own brother? But it is not proper to kiss outside of one's family, and now thou art growing a large girl and may see many gallants. So be wise and careful."
Patty did her hair high on her head, but MadamWetherill bade her take it down again and tie it with a ribbon. And her white muslin dress was short and scant, just coming to her ankles and showing the instep of her pretty clocked stockings. There were lace frills to her puffed sleeves, and a lace tucker, with a pretty bow on one shoulder. But it seemed as if she looked more beautiful than ever before.
Everybody made much of her. It appeared to be an easy road to Captain Nevitt's heart. Even the handsome Major André, who had come because Nevitt had talked so much about his little sister and Madam Wetherill, and also because he was likely to meet some of the attractive young women of the town, and "Primrose was like a little fairy for beauty, and that her smiles were bewitching."
A very great time it was indeed. There were ombre and quadrille tables, piquet and guinea points for the elders, while the black fiddlers in the end of the hall inspired the feet of the younger portion. With the dancing there were jest and laughter and compliments enough to give a novice vertigo. Primrose was daintily shy and clung close to her brother, of which he was very proud, as she had never shown him quite such favor before.
Anabella Morris was setting up for a young lady, being nearly two years older than Primrose. Mrs. Morris had taken a certain Captain Decker in her house to lodge, who seemed very devoted to her daughter. She had not succeeded in capturing a husband yet, but it seemed quite possible with all this influx of masculines. The glowing and attractive description of "Fairemount" given before, as a place "where no woman need go without a husband," had not held good of late years.
The supper was in keeping with all the rest. There were solids in the way of cold meats served up in various fashions, there were wines of all kinds, and lighter refreshments of cake, floating islands, jellies, whipped sillabubs, curds and cream, and all the delicacies in vogue. There were healths drunk, toasts and witty replies, and, after a complimentary mention of the hostess, someone asked whether that pestilent old Quaker Samuel Wetherill was any relative, expressing ironical regret that he was not present.
Madam Wetherill rose tall and stately, with the most courteous self-possession.
"My husband and Mr. Samuel Wetherill's grandfather came from different towns in old England, but there may have been some of the same blood in their veins. And I think if my husband had espoused a cause he believed right, and gave of his means and influence courageously, fought, and should, perhaps, die for it, I should honor him as a brave man. For there will many brave men die on both sides."
There was a moment's silence, then hearty applause without a dissentient sound.
And when, toward morning, the servants were carrying away dishes and putting out lights, Madam Wetherill came and jingled three guineas in her hands, close to Janice Kent.
"I was thinking of our poor fellows and the sick and wounded to-night, and resolved that when they return to the city they shall have a greater welcome than this. And that rampant old Tory Ralph Jeffries, whom I should not have asked but for his daughter's sake, insisted upon playing when he was half fuddled. He is shrewd enough when sober, but to-night I won his guineas. And now I tell thee, Janice, what Iwill do. These new people are ready enough with their play and have plenty of money. Whatever I win I shall lay aside for our poor fellows."
"That is a fine scheme," and Janice Kent laughed.
"We must get out to the farm some day and see if we cannot send provisions before these British troops lay hands on it. For it will take a great deal to feed eighteen thousand men, and I doubt if they suffer at any time from honest scruples."
"It was a grand time. There are many handsome young men among them. But I think that Major André bears off the palm. There is music in his laugh, and his handsome face is enough to turn a girl's head. They are to act a play, I believe. Miss Becky Franks was talking of it to the Shippens."
Madam Wetherill sighed a little.
Already the quiet streets of the town had taken on a new aspect. There were fiddling and singing in many of the decorous old taverns. Men were shouting Tory broadsides of ridiculous verse; selling places for the races, when Tarleton was to ride, as that was sure to draw crowds, or hawking tickets for plays. Women were careful about going in the streets unattended, and cavaliers became general.
A few days later Captain Nevitt came in to escort the ladies out to Cherry Farm, as, somehow, many duties and engagements had intervened since his arrival until, as he admitted, he was quite ashamed of the lack of respect due his uncle. It was a bright, clear winter day, with a sky of wonderful blue, against which the distant trees stood out distinctly, the hemlocks looking almost black against it. The soldiers' barracks stretched out, giving a strange appearance to the once peaceful city. Groups of men were loungingidly about, and confusion seemed to predominate. But they soon left the city behind them, and rode along the Schuylkill, where the wintry landscape, leafless trees, and denuded cornfields met their glance, dreary now, but to be ruinous by and by.
Primrose had a pony of her own and rode beside her aunt, with her brother as her guard, while Lieutenant Vane was her aunt's escort. Primrose wore a blue cloth coat and skirt, trimmed with fur, and her white beaver hat was tied under her chin. Many women used a thin, silken sort of mask to protect their complexion from wind and dust, but Madam Wetherill had discarded it and did not always insist upon Primrose wearing one.
Many of the beautiful houses destroyed later on were standing now. A few had been taken as outposts for the army, others looked lonely enough closed for the season, as it had not been considered prudent to leave even the farmer in charge, after the battle of Germantown.
"Primrose does credit to someone's training," Captain Nevitt remarked. "Is it a long ride?"
"We are used to this fashion of getting about and hardly think of fatigue. It would be a poor weakling who could not stand a few miles. The roads are rough for the chaise."
How pretty she looked in her white and blue. She smiled at him. They had been quite good friends since the night of the dance, though there had been no opportunity of teasing each other.
But she was not thinking of his regard nor his pleasure just now. She seemed to have changed mysteriously, to have grown out of careless childhood, and taken a great deal of thought about the country.When she remembered that General Howe had come with his army to subdue it and that her brother was in the soldiery she shrank from him. How could she love him? He had pleaded for her sweet mother's sake, and that touched her inmost soul.
She had listened with frightened eyes and a breathless throbbing of the heart to the account of the battle of Germantown, and her fears for her beloved country often outran her hopes when she had a quiet time to think. The servants had been forbidden to tell her the more awesome part of it, only she knew General Washington had been beaten and forced to retreat, and the British hailed it as a great victory.
The young lieutenant and the stately dame found many things to talk about, as well-bred people often do, skirting over the thin places, for by this time he understood that madam's heart was not on the English side. But he was confident when it was all over that she would accept defeat gracefully.
The ascent from the city was gradual. In the distance they noted the small gray stone houses, looking frosty in the wintry air, with here and there a larger one, like the Chew House, to be famous long afterward in history. Then they turned aside and lost sight of it. Captain Nevitt thought he would like to have been in the fray, but he did not say so.
"Thou art very quiet, little one. I have heard people offer a penny for one's thoughts, a big English penny," smilingly.
"Mine do not go as cheap as that," answered the maiden.
"A crown, then?"
"I do not think I will sell them."
"Thou art not very much in love with the cousins?" he said presently.
She colored quickly and turned her face to him, quite unaware of betrayal until he laughed.
"Ah, I have thy thoughts without the penny! Is it the tall Quaker cousin madam talks about, or the other—William Penn?"
"His name is simply Penn, Penn Morgan. And he is not an own cousin. Surely it is not strange if I did think about them."
"Do not be offended. I shall like them if they have thy affection."
"Thou hast small mind of thy own if thou takest a girl's whims for thy pattern," she answered with a show of disdain. "Whether I like them or not is my own affair. And Patty declares I change about with every puff of wind."
"Nay, I shall not believe that until I follow the changes, or they are made in my behalf."
"Oh, you know why I am cross to you! I cannot like a redcoat! But because my own mamma loved you——"
"Primrose, thou art quite too peppery in temper with thy brother," interrupted Madam Wetherill gently. "The Henrys will think I have indulged thee ruinously."
She looked up laughingly. The soft yellow hair was blown about her like a cloud, and the great bow under her chin gave her a coquettish air. What a changeful little sprite she was!
They were coming in sight of the great barns and outhouses for the cattle, and nestled down among them was the house, looking really smaller. A line of blue smoke from the chimney was floating over to the west,betokening a storm wind not far off. Someone was coming from the barn, a stoutish man who walked with a cane, and paused to wonder at the party.
"That is your uncle, your father's brother," said Madam Wetherill.
Madam Wetherill made her brief explanation to show why she had ventured to bring two dashing redcoats, in their military trappings, to the home of the plain Quaker. James Henry looked at his nephew with many lines of doubt in his face and evident disapprobation.
"I have planned for the last two years to come over," said the winsome voice with the sound of glad, merry youth in it that jarred on the sedateness of his listener. "I was waiting for a promotion, and then had permission from the King to join General Howe. So I found him in possession of my native city, and in short order I discovered my little sister."
"We are men of peace," returned his uncle gravely. "William Penn founded his colony on the cornerstones of peace and equity, and all we ask is to live undisturbed and away from carnal pleasures and the wanton fripperies of the world. And it pains me to see Philemon Henry's son come among us in the habiliments of war. Still I suppose thou must do thy duty to thy Master, the King, since thou hast strayed from thy father's faith. There is no discipline now for children, and they follow evil counsel as they will."
"It was my father's will rather than mine. I remember, big boy that I was, crying many a night on shipboard for my stepmother's affection and kisses."
"It was an error of judgment, and he hath no doubtbewailed his mistake if it is given us to sorrow in the next world. But come in. And though thou art of the world, worldly, there is much in kindred blood. Come in and take welcome among us."
The keeping room was cheerful with a great fire of logs in the wide stone chimney-place. There was a spicy fragrance of pine knots and hemlock. In one corner Rachel Morgan sat at her spinning wheel, with a woman's cap upon her head, and a bit of thin white muslin crossed inside her frock at the neck; a full-fledged Quaker girl, with certain lines of severity hardly meet for so young a face. Mother Lois sat beside the fire knitting. She had never been quite so strong since her fever, and Faith had a basket of woolen pieces out of which she was patching some shapely blocks for a bed comfort.
She sprang up with a face full of joy. The summers were not so bad, but she dreaded the long, dreary winters when she had to stay indoors and sew and spin, with none of her own years to speak with.
"Oh, Primrose! And is it really thy brother? What a pretty habit thou hast with all the fur, and the hat makes a picture of thee! There is one upstairs of a great-grandmother, and thou lookest like it, but it belongs to Andrew and not to our side, and," lowering her voice, "Uncle Henry thinks it vain. Andrew wanted it in his room, but uncle would not listen. Oh, I am so glad to see thee. I am so lonely," piteously.
The little Quaker girl in her sudden delight had forgotten her superior virtue. Her eyes fairly danced as they devoured Primrose. All the others seemed talking and explaining, so she had dared to step over the traces in the din.
"We have some odd old portraits in Arch Street. If thou couldst visit me, Faith!"
"Faith," said her uncle, "go and call Andrew. I left him threshing in the farther barn."
Faith rose with sober gravity, running her needle through the patch, and walked placidly through the room, though she had telegraphed to Primrose with her eye. And just as she opened the door Primrose gathered up her skirts and, saying, "I will go, too," flashed along before anyone could frame a remonstrance.
"I wish thou wert here—nay, not that, for thou would be kept straitly, and there would be no pleasure. Rachel has grown severe, and works so much at her outfitting, for she means to be married sometime."
"Who will she marry?" There seemed no one besides Andrew, and the child's heart made a sudden fierce protest.
"Oh, I do not know. William Frost hath walked home with her when the meetings were at Friend Lester's. All girls marry, I think, and I shall be glad enough when my time comes. If it were not for Andrew I hardly know what would become of me. He is so good. He reads curious books and tells them to me. And sometimes there are verses that I want to sing, they are so sweet—but such things are wrong. Andrew! Nay, hide here, Primrose," pushing her in a corner. "Andrew, guess what has happened, and who hath come! An elegant soldier in scarlet and gold, and—and—someone thou lovest. I was mad one day when I said I hated her——"
"Not Primrose!" in a surprised but gladsome tone.
There was a swift rush and Primrose was in hisarms. He did not kiss her, but held her so tightly that she could feel his strong heart beat.
"Truly, Faith, thou didst not hate me?" she said when released, turning to the girl.
The maiden's face was scarlet.
"She does not hate thee now, dear," said Andrew softly.
"It was most wicked and hateful! Thou hadst so many joys and pretty things and lessons, and a beautiful face, and then Andrew said thou didst have the sweetest big heart in all the world and could love me and would be glad to share thy joys with me. Is it so, Primrose?"
Primrose clasped her in her arms and kissed her many times.
"I wish thou could come. There are so many things, and it makes no one poorer by sharing them."
"And then I learned to love thee. We talk of thee until at night, when I shut my eyes and draw the coverlid about me, I can see thee like a star coming out in the blue. And Andrew thinks sometime he may take me in on market day, when the spring opens, for I would like to see the great city. And thou might come to meet us. I think Aunt Lois and Rachel would be angry if I went to Madam Wetherill's. But I am forgetting. Thou hast a soldier cousin, Andrew."
"He is my brother," explained Primrose with curious dignity. "And—I do not like him to be a King's soldier."
Andrew gave a long whistle of amazement, and studied Primrose so keenly that she flushed.
"Thy brother? Of course, then, being Uncle Philemon'sson he is my cousin. Is he not Lord somebody?"
"He is Captain Nevitt. And at times I love him, but he teases and threatens to take me to England, and—and he is to fight our soldiers. It does not seem right, then, to love him at all. Andrew," looking up out of the softly radiant eyes, "I wish thou wert in his stead."
Andrew Henry was satisfied then. For an instant his soul had been wrung with jealousy. But his look of tender regard answered hers and both understood.
"And I must go see this British cousin. Faith, hand me that brush, even if it does get used at times on Dobbin's sleek coat."
He brushed the dust of the grain out of his clothes and gave his hair a stir with his fingers.
"And Primrose hath a pony!" cried Faith. "It is pretty, with great, soft eyes! Next summer I shall learn to ride."
She caught the hand of her visitor and pressed it with pervading rapture. Primrose wondered how she could have grown so different.
"Thou hast stayed finely!" said Rachel reprovingly. "It is ever the way when two do an errand. And Madam Wetherill will take dinner with us, it is so near noon. The horses must be put out, and Penn and Jonas are down in the wood lot. Go to the kitchen and help Chloe."
There were tears in Faith's eyes, but she dared not even loiter, for Rachel's hand was not light when it came with a box on the ear. There were so few visitors at the house that this was a great treat, and Faith hated to be shut out.
Philemon Nevitt surveyed his cousin with somecuriosity and decided that the plain young Quaker farmer was no great rival after all in his young sister's favor. For he was not likely to fight for his country, the great test Primrose seemed to require. But when Andrew went out to care for the horses the two young men asked permission to leave the ladies and take a look around.
"The country surprises me," declared Captain Nevitt. "We have heard much talk about the wilderness and the forests, and the few towns such as Penn's Colony, which is a much greater city than one could imagine. And there is the town the Dutch started, New York, and the Puritan Boston, beside many lesser places that must show wonderful capacity for settling the New World. There are industries, too, that have amazed me. 'Tis a great pity a people doing so well should rebel against all law and order, and be willing to have their country destroyed rather than yield while they have something to save."
"We shall not agree upon this matter," Andrew Henry replied with quiet dignity. "And since we are of blood kin, we will not dispute. There are other subjects of talk."
"But my uncle is strong for peace," in a tone of surprise.
"Yes. I, too, am for peace, unless manliness and honor goes not with it. And when one has seen wrongs and usurpations creep in gradually, and privileges taken away—but," checking himself, "I was not to discuss such points. We are plain people but we may have some stock, and browsing for it, that will interest thee."
The cattle were certainly fine and well fed. There were stacks of hay and piles of Indian corn, great pitsof vegetables, and potatoes enough to feed an army, it seemed. Everything was so well kept, and there was a great sheepfold with shelter for the flock in storm.
"And, now, which way retreated the rebels after their defeat?" asked Captain Nevitt.
"They went on up the Schuylkill, on the other side, to Whitemarsh first, and then to Valley Forge."
"A blacksmithy town?"
"There was once an old forge there. It is not a town."
"There seems many comfortable country houses about, as if there might be gentry."
"Some of them now are filled with the wounded and the ill. They were worth seeing in the summer."
Then they discussed horses and found the young Quaker no mean authority. The horn blew to summon them within, where a bountiful feast was spread, to which they all did ample justice and talked of family affairs. Captain Nevitt had another view of his father from his brother's comprehension of him, and though it was much narrower, not less complimentary than that of Madam Wetherill. Certainly there was nothing to regret on the Henry side. He was beginning to feel proud of these clean, wholesome people of strong character.
When they had risen Madam Wetherill said they must leave presently. The sky was getting to be rather lowering, with a grayish cloud in the south that betokened snow, Friend Henry said.
"I will go out with thee, Andrew, and see about the horses," said the lady.
"Nay," interposed Captain Nevitt smilingly. "It is hardly a lady's business——"
"I have some privacy with Andrew," she returned. "I have had some useful hints from him, young as he is, and you must know if women are not equipped for soldiering, they make excellent farmers at times. But you may all come, though if I extract any grand secret from Andrew as to how to double the value of a crop next year, I shall not bruit it abroad, I promise you."
Faith looked up wistfully.
"Child," she said, "thou and Primrose go take a little run in the keen air. Thou art not very rosy for a farmer's maid, and Primrose hath been housed overmuch of late, our streets are so full of roysterers."
"Faith hath some work——"
"Nay," interposed Madam Wetherill, "ten minutes' run will make her all the brisker for work. Run along, children; and have a little visit with each other."
There was something in Madam Wetherill not easily gainsaid. Rachel saved up her displeasure for a scolding presently.
Andrew attended the lady to the stalls where the horses had been led.
"Thou hast not been in to market of late?"
"There had been so much disorder, and I believe a permit is needed. Then there have been people about, buying up produce of all kinds."
"Dost thou know anything of the other army?" Her voice was very low.
"Somewhat," in a hesitating tone.
"They are likely to need many things. Howe's purpose to attack them was frustrated by a timely warning. There may be other warnings as well, for the army contains many braggarts. And their winter of dissipation, of gambling and betting and carousing,will not fit them for a spring campaign. I heard it said that Philadelphia was capturing them by allurements, and it may be a poor victory for General Howe. I have a faith—I cannot tell thee of any tangible groundwork, but I feel assured we shall win."
"It is dark enough now."
"But there was the splendid capture of Burgoyne, and our army made much richer by stores sorely needed. Canst thou get things to Valley Forge?"
"I know of someone who can," and he studied her eyes.
"Even if it is gold—British gold? It will not stick to anyone's fingers?"
"I will warrant that," and the delight encouraged her.
"I have a small fund that will come in from time to time. Here is a little bag. It is not much, but it will help. And if I could get needful things to them, clothes and blankets? If thou wilt sell provisions to me for them—thy father keeps a sharp lookout?"
"He hath a shrewd mind and far sight. And I would not render him liable to trouble. I think I could manage that way. Oh, madam, I ought to be with those brave fellows whom nothing disheartens. The general's wife hath left her pleasant, peaceful home to share his hardships. It ismycountry."
"Wait a little and be patient. It is a pity this fine cousin is on the wrong side. It would amuse thee to hear Primrose dispute with him. Now I trust thee to get this gold thither."
"Thank thee a hundred times for them. There are many loyal hearts in town, as I well know."
"And many disloyal ones. It angers me. Come in some time. Primrose will be overjoyed to see thee.She is growing tall fast, too fast for my pleasure. I would fain keep her a little girl."
"I am jealous of my cousin," declared Captain Nevitt coming out to them with the air of a spoiled boy. "When wilt thou give me a confidence?"
"All the way home," she answered readily. "And I have so many good points I think I shall bet on the next race. How many of you will ride?"
"Why do we not have some hunts?" he asked eagerly. "If there is no fighting there must be diversion."
They mounted the ladies and rode up to the door of the cottage to say good-by.
"I shall dream of thee to-night," Faith whispered to Primrose.
The wind blew up colder and sharper. They were glad to get home. There was a slight fall of snow and everything was frozen up hard enough to last all winter.
The streets seemed merrier than ever. All the creeks were frozen solid, it seemed, and the Schuylkill was a sparkling white band, winding about. Skating had broken out into fashion, and the prettiest belles of the day were out with trains of military men at their beck. The river banks would be lined with spectators, who envied, criticised, and carped. Women were muffled up in furs and carried huge muffs, their wide hats tied down under their chins with great bows, some wearing the silken mask, in much the fashion of a veil, to protect their skins from frosty touches. The skaters, in skirts that betrayed trim and slender ankles, spun along like a whirl of the wind, or with hands crossed with a partner, went through graceful rocking evolutions, almost like a waltz.
The scarlet uniforms of the officers made a brilliant pageant. It was indeed a winter long to be remembered, and recalled with keen relish when the British, with lovers and friends, had flown.
Captain Nevitt had insisted upon taking his sister out, as Primrose was a very fair skater, and, under his tuition, improved wonderfully. She looked so pretty in her skating dress with her soft, yellow hair flying in the wind, and her lovely face half hidden in her hat, to be revealed like a vision at the various turns.
Nevitt had been taken on General Howe's staff for the present. Foiled in his endeavor to call out Washington by any maneuver, and feeling that another battle was quite impossible and useless in the extreme cold, which was more bitter than for years, he too, gave himself over to diversion, and looked leniently on the frivolities of his officers and the ruder dissipations of his men.
The most fascinating game on the ice was skating after a ball. A man called the hurlie propelled half a dozen balls along with a long, sharp-pointed stick, between two given points, often far enough apart to make a trial of speed and endurance. The fortunate one was he or she who caught a ball before it reached the goal, and then the merriest shout would ring out on the air.
A tall, fine-looking young fellow in civilian attire had captured two of the balls one afternoon and was flying at his most vigorous speed for another. Primrose had paused for a moment while her brother stopped to chaff a companion. The ball rolled swiftly along, and from some slight inequality in the ice deflected. The arm was outstretched to catch it, and she could not quite remember afterward whethershe had stooped, but he came against her with sufficient force to knock her over. He caught the ball and held it up in triumph, with a joyous hurrah, and then turned to see what the oath and the exclamation meant.
"Good Heavens! you have killed her, you brute!" Captain Nevitt cried angrily.
"I was under such headway and I had no thought the ball would go in that direction. Let us see at once. Is she unconscious? Dr. Shippen is here. I passed him not ten seconds ago. I will find him."
Nevitt took Primrose in his arms, limp and white as a lily. There was a little circle about them, but the others went on with their gayety. A fall was no such uncommon thing.
Dr. Shippen had been out for a little exercise, and withal had some curiosity to see the mad carnival that had broken out in the staid city.
"Ah, it is Madam Wetherill's little girl!" looking sharply at Nevitt.
"I thought I had seen the child somewhere," said the young man who had caused the accident. "Can we not take her home at once?"
"I am her brother," was Nevitt's stiff reply. "You have done enough mischief with your awkwardness. I hope your silly victory repays you. Let me pass, with no further parley on your part."
"What do you think, Dr. Shippen?"
"It is a faint, of course. Whether she is more severely injured I cannot tell. Let us take her home, for she will be chilled through, and I have an errand in Second Street."
The doctor sat down on a stump to unbuckle hisskates. Nevitt had taken his off a few moments before, but Primrose had begged that they might skate all the way down.
"Can I do nothing to assist?" asked the other.
"Go on with your prize-winning," said the captain haughtily. "You may run over someone else if you have good luck."
"You British think you own the town and can order us about like slaves!" was the fiery reply.
"Tut! tut! Wharton! Don't get into a fight. You are hotheaded."
"I will not be insulted by any interloper, even if he wears a red coat." Wharton's face was flushed with anger, and his eyes sparkled with passion.
"Where will a note reach you?" Captain Nevitt was in a flame of anger as well.
"Come along at once! Allin Wharton, go over yonder and cool your temper talking to the pretty women. And if you are the child's brother, get along as fast as you can with her, and let us see what it amounts to. A fall like that is enough to knock the breath out of anyone."
Wharton did not attempt to follow them. They hurried on, Nevitt's anger giving him strength. He pressed his face against the cold, white one.
"Who was that boor?" he cried passionately. "If my sister is injured I shall half murder him!"
"If you are her brother then you are Philemon Henry's son, and he was a man of peace. I have had a great desire to see you, since your father was a good friend of mine. I heard you had come over, I must say on bad business. Here, this turn cuts off some distance, though we have been squared according to plummet and line; and then down here. Letme take the child. Is there no sign of returning animation?"
They reached the Wetherill house, and its mistress caught sight of them from the window.
"Oh, Dr. Shippen!" she cried in alarm.
"The child has had a fall. Take off her hat and coat. Now let me see!"
He laid her on the settle in the hall and began chafing her hands, and ordering some restoratives.
"Are you sure there are no bones broken?"
"Not quite. It really was not that kind of a fall. There, she is coming around. Now, Madam Wetherill, here is a pepper-pot of a young soldier that you must cool down with some soothing potions, and I will find the other firebrand. We won't have them shooting each other unless in up and down warfare."
"I think you will bear witness that I was insulted," declared Nevitt.
"And gave an insult. It is about even. No fighting, therefore. Dueling for trifles is cold-blooded murder. I ask it for your father's sake. My little dear, wake up from your nap."
"What is it?" Primrose said in a faint voice. "I feel queer." Then she lapsed into insensibility again.
"Take her upstairs if you will, please. And, doctor, what mystery is there about this mishap? How did it occur? Patty, come hither."
The child opened her eyes again and half smiled.
"She will do now, I think; her pulse is stronger. Here is a small injury; nothing worse than a sprain, I think. She was run down on the ice. Our town goes crazy over a trifle now. The wrist is bruised and sprained. Patty, if you are the owner of so useful aname, undress the child, but I think she hath no broken bones."
The men retired to the adjoining room while Patty alternately scolded and petted her young charge.
"I hope you will reconsider your threat," said the doctor. "There are too many good uses for life to throw it away foolishly. If you are a King's man your life belongs to him, and is not to be wasted in a fit of temper."
Philemon Nevitt flushed with a sense of shame. He had been hotheaded, unreasonable.
There was no serious injury, they found. The bruised wrist was to be bound up with the old-fashioned remedy of wormwood and hot vinegar. And to-morrow Primrose would be all right again.
"Do you know this Allin Wharton?" Nevitt asked of Madam Wetherill.
"I know his family well, only young people have such a way of growing up that one loses track of them. He cannot be more than twenty. And words between you ought not to lead to any serious matter. You should have kept better watch of Primrose in such a crowd."
"I think I ought," he admitted frankly. "And I was hasty." He recalled the fact that he had given the insult, and that the other had the right to seek satisfaction. In London duels were common enough.
But by great good fortune young Wharton called on Madam Wetherill the next morning to inquire about the mishap to Primrose and found her none the worse except a bandaged wrist.
"Is it really true that this fire-eating young captain is—what shall I say? A relative, since this pretty flower is your niece, is she not? And Polly was sotaken with him, but for his red coat, that when I began to talk of him I found I had fallen into a hornets' nest. And now, Madam Wetherill, what shall I do? Some hot and hasty words passed between us. Can I safely show the white feather? For no doubt your captain is a fine shot, and, truth to tell, I have some other plans for my life. Since he is even half-brother to Miss Primrose I should not want to shoot him."
Primrose looked up with languid sweetness. She felt rather sore and inert from the shock.
"Why, were you going to shoot him?" she asked.
"We had some words. You know I ran over you. It was very rude and careless. And it might have been much worse, and then I should really have been guilty."
"But you caught the ball! I saw it as I went down. I should not have been so intent and moved a little. But I had not taken off my skates. Brother Phil wanted me to, but I was quite determined to have my own way. And so I went over more easily. It would be very cruel and wicked to shoot each other on account of me."
"And silly, too," said Madam Wetherill sharply. "I shall take the case in my own hands, and arrange matters," laughingly. "I think Captain Nevitt was unmindful for a moment. And there is no great harm done but a sprained wrist."
"And if you had shot Phil——"
"Well, what would you have done?"
"I should never, never want to see you or to think of you again!"
"And if he had shot me?"
"Then, I think, I should send him away and never see him again."
Allin Wharton wondered how it would be in the future if they should meet on the field of battle. For he had just wrung a reluctant consent from his father that he should respond to his country's call, whose need would never be more urgent than now.
"I wonder if you are on the side of the King? It would seem so natural with a brother in the ranks," and he recalled the entertainment in his honor at Madam Wetherill's hands. Polly, his sister, had thought the captain charming.
"I am a rebel," she said proudly. "And I shall never be content until he comes over to the side of the country, to the buff and blue instead of the red."
"Surely, surely; you are a brave, patriotic girl. Wish me success in case I want to join the rebel army," with a half-embarrassed smile. It was not wisdom to confess all one's plans.
She put out her right hand. It was the other that had been hurt. "I wish thee success. That means victory and a safe return," she replied with sweet solemnity.
They all made so light of the occurrence that a note of apology from Mr. Wharton settled the matter. Captain Nevitt felt in his cooler moments that he had been a little to blame, also hasty and unreasonable. And when, a few evenings after, he met pretty and vivacious Polly Wharton and danced with her, he was very glad the matter had gone no farther.
Primrose was soon well again, but Madam Wetherill would not consent to her going out on the river among the gay crowd, though she felt it a great deprivation. There were two or three quiet spots on the creeks where children could go without harm, and Patty used to take her when Phil was engaged, though Lieutenant Vane was always inquiring if he could not accompany them. He seemed younger and more boyish than the captain, and proved quite delightful to the groups of children, though he admitted laughingly that he found a great many rebels among them.
And so the days went on, one and another indignant over the "rollicking winter" as Mr. Allen termed it, and others storming at General Howe for the wanton destruction everywhere visible. Groves of trees were cut down for firewood, gardens despoiled, and some of the houses taken possession of by the troops were cut and hacked with insulting boasts, and really ruined. Others, Continentals confessedly, railed at Washington for his inaction and supineness.
Howe had planned one surprise and possible capture of the troops, but heroic Lydia Darragh, having overheard the plot, walked to Washington's camp while it was at Whitemarsh, and forewarned them. Finding the rebels prepared with a warm welcome the British retraced their steps. There were small skirmishes outside the lines, and once the impetuous Lafayette advanced, hoping to surprise the enemy, but nothing came of this. Baron Steuben was training the Continentals, as many of them were raw recruits, but, used to hunting as they were, most of the young men had a quick eye and correct aim.
But stories crept in concerning their hardships and sufferings. Every avenue was closely watched that no supplies should be sent directly from the city, but more than once keen wit evaded them. There were passes for the farmers to come in on market days, and many were glad even to supply their enemies for British gold. James Henry thought this no sin, and was given a pass for his son and nephew. Penn had imbibed many of his uncle's beliefs, and took home rather rose-colored accounts of the prosperity of the city. He kept, too, a watchful eye over Andrew, who was more than half suspected of being quite as willing to deal with the rebels, and Madam Wetherill's was considered a rather tempting and unsafe place for sober-going Friends.
But one day he came alone, and made his way to Arch Street, leaving his empty wagon at a nearby tavern that he knew he could trust.
"It is thy cousin," whispered Madam Wetherill, who had some callers. "Take him upstairs in Patty's sewing room."
Primrose ran out with delight in her eyes, but shehad grown wise, and, instead of a cry of joy, placed her finger archly on her lips and motioned him through the hall.
"I saw a glimpse of a red coat," he said in a low tone. "I have no desire to run into a hornets' nest. Oh, Primrose, thou hast grown taller since the day thou wert at the farm. Thou wilt soon be a young lady. And the sweetness of childhood will be ended."
"Is girlhood sharp, then, and—and sour?"
Her eyes danced with a merry, mischievous light.
"Nay, sweeter than ever; but it's sweetness is more sacred. And presently comes the time of lovers."
"I shall not have any lovers. They say pert things and talk about pretty faces, or else are silly like Anabella's lover, and forever kissing one's hand. And what think you Lieutenant Vane did when we were going to ride a few days since? There was pretty Mistress Wharton here, and my brother is much taken with her, though she is such a rebel. But I was not allowed to mount the stepping stone, and his hand was placed under my foot. So I pressed down hard, wishing I could squeeze the British blood out of him. They do nothing but run about and have pleasure. But if I were a hundred years old I would have none of them for lovers. I want no one but my brother and my cousin, and sometimes I think thou art dearer, because thou would fight for thy country. And I am ashamed when I think it is his country as well."
"What preachment is the little maid making, Andrew?" said the older voice as the ample figure entered the doorway. "I sometimes think I shall have to keep her shut up in one room, people talk to her so much and spoil her."
"Nay, she is not spoiled," protested Andrew.
"She is a wise little thing, and saucy, too, and often amuses the company by bits of patriotism that are shrewd and wholesome. I think people in this mad revel are forgetting they are Americans and have a country to fight for. And, now, what is the news? There is much dissatisfaction, I hear, with General Washington. It cannot be that they will give up the rallying point, the wisest man of them all, and break up into factions."
"They will not give him up, madam. It is a bitter winter, and the stores at York are sadly depleted. They are watched on every hand. While the town is dancing to British music, and giving aid and comfort to the enemy, our men are living in rude huts that hardly shelter them from the storms and are glad for crusts. But the men will stand by him to the last. It is only idle talk about superseding him. And the men worship Madam Washington and Madam Knox. If you could see them! They minister to the sick, they patch the worn-out clothes and blankets. There is so much need of these things, stockings, and shoes."
"My heart aches for them. I have been gathering a store——" She paused and eyed Primrose.
"You need not be afraid," cried Primrose eagerly. "Is it notmycountry? And, Cousin Andrew, I have saved some money that my brother gave me to buy frippery and sweetmeats with. And I am knitting socks."
"Thou art a brave girl, and quite able to keep thy own counsel. I have known that aforetime," and he smiled. "Indeed, madam, we could trust her to the uttermost."
"There is quite a store of some things——"
"I will tell thee—there is a false bottom to thewagon that I can raise up after the load is sold. That is my secret. And I can trust him at the Pewter Platter. I have carried more than one lot."
"There is a bagful," pulling it out of the cupboard.
"It will look like a sack of potatoes."
They all laughed.
"There is a blanket in my room. Come thither. Then thou hast little fear? It is a great relief to hear this."
"Madam, such courage must be rewarded. I should want to be with them, but that I think I can be of more service here. When the spring opens——"
He paused and looked from one to the other.
"Wilt thou go, then?" Primrose slipped her hand in his, and though her voice was just above a whisper it was an inspiration to him.
"I shall go, then. Penn can fill my place at home. The country's need will never be greater."
There was another half fear that the loyal soul barely breathed to itself. He must be away before it came to anything beyond the half fear.
The beautiful eyes were grave, and the face had a new solemnity. Her faith inspired him.
"We have not much time to lose," he said. "You see, I must go up the rough Perkiomen road to meet the friend in waiting. We have safe points," and he smiled gravely.
Madam Wetherill pulled out the stout sack and held the top open.
"That will be a godsend. Madam, many a poor fellow's heart will be glad and his toes warm. Heaven reward thee!"
"Heaven has rewarded me in many things. If I could see the end more clearly!"
Primrose brought her little purse with its gilt clasps, and poured out her money. Madam Wetherill added her store to it.
"Art thou sure there is no risk?" she said.
"I shall be careful. One learns much shrewdness."
He shouldered the bag.
"Let me out the side way like any other servant," he said, as he bade them farewell.
"And now, little Primrose," cautioned her Aunt, "thou must keep guard over thy tongue as if with a steel chain, for thy cousin's sake."
"It will never be a traitor tongue," returned the maiden proudly.
Patty had been down in the kitchen helping with some ironing, and now she came up with an armful of stiff skirts. For many women on state occasions wore a big hoop, and others swelled out with starched petticoats.
"I have to go among the stores to find some things that have grown scarce as hen's teeth. And thou hast not been out these two days, Primrose. Thy gallants have deserted thee. What sayest thou to a little run in the brisk air. We shall not go in public places, madam, and she will be safe by my side."
"As she likes. There are plenty of pretty girls in town, perhaps better worth being looked at. And it is early yet."
Primrose enjoyed these small shopping expeditions. There were some very nice places kept by Friends who had been famous in merchandise a few years before, but stocks had sadly diminished and prices gone up. Patty's Yankee blood came to the fore in such times as these, and she had become rather a dread to clerks and shopmen. This part of it amused Primrosevery much, as Patty was sure to make a good bargain.
"There seems nothing at all to buy now," she cried in disdain, finding some difficulty in getting what she wanted.
"There will be less yet unless the war ends presently," was the reply of the shopkeeper.
"Then we must turn our old gowns, though in truth there seems no lack of fine attire if one looks at the gay maidens on the street. They seem turned into butterflies. And it must take a mint of money for their wings."
The clerk smiled.
"Let us go round by the creek," pleaded Primrose. "The skaters are so merry."
"If thou wilt not coax to stay more than a moment."
The child promised.
As they were turning a corner a young man eyed them sharply. Primrose did not see him, and Patty hurried on, for he was a stranger.
But he took some long strides and caught up to them.
"It is Mistress Primrose Henry——"
The little girl turned.
"Oh, Patty, it is Miss Polly Wharton's brother," she said, holding out her hand.