“Nature imprints upon whate’er we see,That has a heart and life in it, ‘Be free.’”—Cowper.
“Nature imprints upon whate’er we see,That has a heart and life in it, ‘Be free.’”
—Cowper.
“Yes, ’tis Clifford,” he said in a low tone. “I have escaped from Lancaster, where I was a prisoner, and am trying to reach New York. I should not have troubled you, Peggy, but the storm is so severe that I can go no further. But, my cousin, it may be of risk to shelter me.”
“Oh,” she cried clasping her hands in dismay. “What shall I do? What shall I do? Why, Clifford, both father and Robert Dale are here. They are of the army, and may deem it their duty to give thee up.”
“I see,” he said with some bitterness. “I should not have troubled you, but I thought—— It did seem for the sake of our kinship that you would give me shelter at least for the night.”
“Stop!” she cried, laying a detaining handon his arm as he turned to go. “Thee is so hasty, Clifford. Of course I will help thee, but I must think how to do it. As I said, father and Major Dale are here; and Fairfax Johnson too. Of Virginia, thee remembers? Remain here for a moment, my cousin. I will send Sukey out of the kitchen, and then thee shall come in. ’Tis cold out here.”
“After all,” he said, his lips meeting in the straight line of determination that she remembered so well, “I do wrong to ask aught of you. There may be—nay, there is, risk in harboring me, Peggy. I must not get you into trouble. Is there not a barn where I could abide for the night?”
“Thee would freeze in the barn to-night,” she cried. It had stopped snowing, but the wind had increased in violence, and it was growing colder. It would be bitter by night, the girl reflected, noticing the fact in a perfunctory manner. “I could not bear to think of thee there, my cousin. Thee is cold now. Thy lips are blue, and thou art shaking. Wait for a moment. Thee must.”
She pushed him back behind the door, then catching up the dish-pan entered the kitchenhurriedly. Sukey, the black servant, was its only inmate.
“Sukey,” said Peggy trying to speak naturally, “has thee seen to the beds yet? They should be well warmed for so cold a night as this will be. And the fires? Is there wood in plenty? I will set the kitchen in order if thee will look well to the up-stairs.”
“Hit am done looked aftah,” said Sukey drawing closer to the fire. “Eberyt’ing’s all right, Miss Peggy. Now yer kin jest go right erlong ter yer fren’s, and let ole Sukey red up.”
“Thee must take more wood up-stairs,” spoke the girl desperately. “There must be an abundance, Sukey. Does thee hear?”
“Yes’m; I heahs, Miss Peggy,” answered the black rising, and giving her young mistress a keen glance. “I heahs, an’ I’se gwine. Dem wood boxes am full, ebery one of dem, but I’se gwine. Ef yer want ter talk secrets yer might hab tole ole Sukey widouten makin’ a ’scuse ter git rid ob hur.”
“Oh, Sukey, forgive me,” cried Peggy laughing in spite of her anxiety to get rid of the black. “Thee is the dearest thing thatever was. I do want the kitchen a little while. Go up to my room, and thee will find a string of yellow beads on the chest of drawers. Thee may have them, Sukey, if thee will stay up there for a little while.”
“Yes’m,” answered Sukey, preparing to take her departure. “I don’t ’prove nohow de way you all takes on wid Miss Sally,” she grumbled as she left the room.
Peggy sped to the entry as soon as the black had left it. “Come, Cousin Clifford,” she called, and Clifford Owen stepped forth. “Sukey hath gone up-stairs, and thee can come in while I think what to do. Come!”
She led the way to the kitchen as she spoke, and her cousin followed her with visible reluctance. He brightened perceptibly at sight of the great fire of hickory logs that blazed in the fireplace.
“Sit here, my cousin,” said Peggy placing a chair in the corner between the dresser and the wall where the light was shaded. “Keep thy beaver on thy head as the Friends do, then if any one should come in it will seem as though thou wert but a passer-by asking for something to warm thee.”
“’Fore George, but that smells good,” ejaculated Clifford as the girl placed a bowl of smoking hot pepper-pot before him. “What is it, Peggy?”
“’Tis pepper-pot, Clifford. ’Tis made nowhere else in the states but here in Philadelphia. It hath dumplings in it, which pleases most boys. And now let me think while thee is getting warm.”
Clifford regarded her anxiously for a moment, then the seductive aroma of the pepper-pot overcame whatever of uneasiness that he may have felt, and he fell to with a relish. Meantime Peggy’s brows were puckered in thought. What should she do with him? she asked herself in perplexity. The temper of the people was such that it would not easily brook any indulgence to the enemy. The penalty for harboring, or aiding and abetting an escaping prisoner was fine, imprisonment, and sometimes even public whipping. Should her father, pure patriot though he was, be suspected of giving aid to one of the British prisoners it would go hard with him. Not even his previous good record would save him from the punishment. And so the girl found herselfconfronted with a serious problem. She could not let her cousin go forth in such weather, and yet her father must not be implicated in his escape. The house was full. Where could the lad stay?
At this moment her eye fell upon a trap-door in the ceiling. There had been until of late a ladder leading up to it, but two of the rounds had been broken and it had been removed to the carpenter’s shop. The door opened into an airy apartment extending the whole length of the kitchen, which was used for drying herbs which were cultivated in ample quantities in the garden. Indeed the Owen house was the only place in the city at the time where herbs could be had, and it was a pleasure to Peggy and her mother to be able to answer the demand for them. Could Clifford but climb up there, she reflected, he would be safe for a time.
“Can thee climb, my cousin?” she cried eagerly. “Because if thee can thee can stay up in the kitchen chamber.”
“Is it warm?” asked the youth, casting a longing glance at the fire.
“Of a verity. It could not be otherwise,being above the kitchen. Thee must not linger, Clifford. Some one is apt to come in at any moment. See the door up there? Well, thee will have to get on the table and I will hand thee a chair. Standing on that thee must try to push the door open, and then draw thyself up into the room above. With the door closed thou wilt be safe from prying eyes, yet thou wilt be able to hear all that goes on below.”
“That is fine, Peggy,” commented the youth, his eyes lighting up. “You are a cousin worth having, and have thought to some purpose.”
He vaulted lightly upon the table as he spoke, and taking the chair that Peggy handed him placed it firmly upon the table, mounting thereupon. With a creek that set the girl’s heart to beating the trap-door was swung open, and the youth drew himself slowly into the chamber above.
“I say,” he said, peering down at Peggy, laughingly, “this is jolly. It’s as warm as toast and there is a fur robe up here. If I don’t answer you at any time you will know, my cousin, that I have gone to sleep.”
“CLOSE THE DOOR.”“CLOSE THE DOOR.”
“Close the door, Clifford,” exclaimed Peggy. “I shall be uneasy until thou art hidden.”
“Don’t be that, little cousin,” he said almost gaily. “I feel like another man already. I shall do royally, and I doubt if any one would think of looking up here for an escaped Englishman.”
He closed the door as he finished speaking, and heaving a sigh of relief Peggy lifted the chair from the table and set it against the wall. She had scarcely resumed her task of washing the pots and pans when the door opened and Sally entered. She glanced about expectantly.
“I thought I heard thee talking to some one,” she remarked. “Isn’t thee ever going to get through with those pots and pans, Peggy? Let me help thee. We want thee to come in with us.”
“Now you all jest go right erlong,” spoke Sukey, who had followed Sally into the room. “Yer ma, she come up and she say, ‘Tell Miss Peggy dat she am wanted in de sittin’-room right now.’ Jest go right erlong, chile. Sukey’ll finish up heah.”
“All right, Sukey.” Peggy relinquishedthe task to the black, and started for the door, saying in a tone that Clifford might hear: “I will be out presently to see how thee gets along.”
“Ef I doan git erlong any fas’er dan you all dese dishes gwine ter be heah twel Chrismus,” grumbled the darkey. “An’ some-body’s muss’d my floah.”
Peggy gave a startled glance at the sand, where telltale traces of her cousin’s presence were plainly in evidence. From the entry door to the kitchen were tracks of snow, and on the sand in the kitchen there were wet spots where the snow had melted. Clearly they must be obliterated.
“I’ll fix the floor, Sukey,” she said, beginning to brush up the wet sand. “Sally, bring some dry sand from the box, please, and we will have this fixed in a jiffy. Thee must not expect thy floor to keep just so, Sukey, when there is so much company.”
Presently, the floor resanded and the entry way swept, the two girls started for the sitting-room. Peggy was thoughtful and Sally too, for the nonce, was silent.
“Clifford will be all right where he is for ashort time,” mused Peggy. “If he has to stay there for any length of time, though, ’twill be most uncomfortable. I wonder if it would not be best to consult with mother? Perchance she could think of some way out of the difficulty.”
She brightened at the thought, and just then Sally opened the door of the sitting-room. Mr. Owen was in his great easy chair with his wife, and Mrs. Johnson sitting near, interested listeners to some narrative. The young people had withdrawn to the far side of the apartment and formed a little group by themselves, of which Betty was the center. She was giving an animated account of a recent assembly, and the youths were so absorbed in the recital that they did not hear the two girls approach. A smile came to Peggy’s lips.
“Why, Betty is in truth a belle, Sally,” she whispered. “How pretty she hath grown! That gown doth indeed become her as thee said. It may be that we tease her too much, for she is of a certainty entertaining. I have never seen Fairfax so interested.”
Betty caught sight of them before Sally could reply.
“Have ye come at last?” she cried. “I thought thee was never coming, Peggy. It is not treating us right to leave us alone so long. And what does thee think? Sally talks of going home. Has she told thee?”
“Oh, Sally!” uttered Peggy reproachfully. “Thee can’t mean it? Why, mother and I expect all of you to stay the night. Beside, ’tis too cold for thee to go out.”
“The very thing I told her,” exclaimed Betty. “And she said,” and a note of indignation quavered into Betty’s voice, “that if it were warm enough to need a fan it was warm enough to go out.”
“But, Betty, why do you use a fan in such weather?” questioned Robert Dale laughing. “Here it is so cold that we can scarce keep warm, and Mistress Owen hath called Sukey twice to attend the fire. Yet there you sit and wave that fan. I have wished to ask you about it all day.”
“Why, Robert, does thee not know that a fan is to a woman what a gun is to a soldier—a weapon of offense and of defense?” explained Betty airily. “When one is conversing should a pause occur in the conversationone may offset any embarrassment by fanning slowly. So!” She plied the fan to and fro as she explained.
“And do you need it often, Betty?” he asked slyly.
“Now that is mean, Robert. I would not have thought it of thee,” pouted Betty. “I shall tell no more secrets anent the use of the fan, sir. Thee would not insinuate anything so ungallant, would thee, Captain Johnson?”
“No,” answered the youth blushing deeply at being so appealed to, and speaking with difficulty. “I would not, Mistress Betty. You—you mean—there would be no pause, would there?” He stopped short as a burst of merriment in which even Betty joined broke from the others. “What did I say?” he asked in alarm. “What is it?”
At this moment there came the sound of many feet in the hallway, and Sukey’s voice was heard protesting loudly:
“Dar ain’t nobody heah but de fambly, Mistah Officah. De fambly and der company. ’Tain’t no mannah ob use disturbin’ dem. Der ain’t no Britisher ’roun’ heah nohow.”
“Why, what does this mean?” ejaculated Mr. Owen, rising and going to the door. “What is the matter, Sukey?” he asked as he threw it open.
“Like bloodhounds now they search me out,—Hark, to the whistle and the shout!If farther through the wilds I go,I only fall upon the foe;I’ll couch me here till evening gray,Then darkling try my dangerous way.”—Sir Walter Scott.
“Like bloodhounds now they search me out,—Hark, to the whistle and the shout!If farther through the wilds I go,I only fall upon the foe;I’ll couch me here till evening gray,Then darkling try my dangerous way.”
—Sir Walter Scott.
Sukey was standing before the entrance valiantly trying to keep the half dozen men who stood in the hall from entering. She turned toward her master with relief.
“Dese men dey sayin’ dat dere’s a Bristisher ’roun’ heah,” she explained. “Dey would come in. I dun my bes’ ter keep dem from ’sturbin’ yer.”
“That is all right, Sukey,” he said kindly. “Perhaps these friends have good reason for coming.”
“That we have, Mr. Owen,” cried one stepping forward. “I am William Will, Sheriff of the city and county of Philadelphia. With me is Mr. Ledie, Commissioner of Prisoners.We are on the track of some prisoners who have escaped from Lancaster. One hath been traced to this house. We have reason to believe that he is in hiding somewhere about the premises. I am sorry to disturb you, sir, but ’tis my duty to make a thorough search of the dwelling.”
“Thou art quite welcome to make the search, Friend Will,” returned Mr. Owen courteously. “I think thee will find thyself mistaken about any one being in hiding here unless he hath concealed himself in the barn. I have neither seen nor heard anything of any one.”
“Then with your permission we will begin right away,” said the sheriff. “Do two of you take the barns and outbuildings; two others the gardens and orchard, while Mr. Ledie and I will make a thorough investigation of the house. We will begin with this room, Mr. Ledie,” he continued stepping inside the sitting-room. “Your pardon, ladies. Knowing that every well affected inhabitant of the county will cheerfully assist in the apprehension of an escaped prisoner my presence, I trust, will be excused. These seem tobe good American citizens, Mr. Owen,” with a keen glance about that embraced every member of the company. “Your wife and daughter I know by sight, and these two young ladies also. This gentleman’s uniform speaks for itself, and this young man is without doubt an American.”
“Yes; he hath served with the militia in Virginia against the enemy, and hath recently obtained a captain’s commission in the regular troops of New Jersey,” explained David Owen. “He is Captain Johnson, who with his mother will stop with us until after the storm hath passed.”
“I see,” remarked the sheriff, passing into the dining-room. “Everything seems to be all right in these two rooms, Mr. Ledie. Now,” addressing the company collectively, “there is one thing more: Does each one of you affirm that you have not seen any one who might be an escaped prisoner?”
Peggy’s heart beat so wildly at this that she feared it could be heard. She had risen at the sheriff’s entrance, and stood with pale face waiting the discovery that she was afraid was imminent. She said nothing as the sheriffasked his question. The others had spoken quickly disclaiming any knowledge of such person, and she hoped the fact that she had made no reply would escape notice. To her relief Sally spoke up:
“Will thee let us see him if thee finds him, Friend Will? Especially if he be good looking.”
“Oh, yes, Friend Will,” broke in Betty. “Do let us have a look at him if thee catches him.”
“Now, now,” protested the officer, “I’m not going to grant any indulgences to further an Englishman’s enjoyment. I know your sex, Miss Sally. If the fellow is good looking I’ll have all of you girls on my back to let him off. And the temper of the people won’t permit such things at present. Well, there is nothing to be gained here. We will take the up-stairs now.”
“I think I shall accompany you,” spoke Mr. Owen. “I like not to think of any prowlers about. I wonder where he escaped from, and if there is but one?”
“Suppose we go too,” said Robert Dale, addressing Fairfax. “We might be of assistance to the sheriff.”
The three left the room, and the women and the girls drew close together while overhead, in every room, and without in the barn and other buildings the search was prosecuted. Nurse Johnson shivered as the sounds of the hunt came to them.
“A man hunt is always such a dreadful thing,” she remarked. “And whether it be for a slave or an enemy, I find my sympathy going with the hunted. I hope they won’t find this poor fellow. Yet I have no love for the English.”
“Thee is like the rest of us,” replied Mistress Owen. “A good hater of the enemy in the aggregate, but a commiserator of one who happens to be in a plight. Peggy, how restless thee is!”
“I am, mother,” answered Peggy rising, and going to the window. “This hath upset me.”
“It is in truth a most unpleasant ending to an otherwise pleasant day,” commented her mother.
Peggy made no further remark, but wandered restlessly about, finally going into the dining-room. She was filled with apprehensionlest at any moment Clifford’s hiding-place should be discovered. He must not stay, she reflected. It was no longer safe to conceal him anywhere on the premises. But where could he go? At this point in her musings she felt an arm slip about her waist, and turned to find Sally Evans beside her.
“And who is it, Peggy?” whispered Sally. “I know that ’tis some one thee knows, else thee would not have helped him.”
“Oh, Sally! how did thee know that ’twas I who helped any one?” asked Peggy alarmed. “Did I show it so plainly? Does thee think the sheriff could tell that I knew aught?”
“Nay,” Sally whispered back. “I knew because I know thee so well. Thee remembers I thought I heard thee talking with some one in the kitchen. Who is it?”
“Clifford,” whispered Peggy.
“Harriet’s brother?” asked Sally, after a little gasp of surprise.
“Yes; he hath escaped from Lancaster, and is trying to get to New York. I could not do otherwise than help him, Sally. He would not have come here had not the storm rendered traveling difficult. But father mustnot know. ’Twould go hard with him were it known that he assisted Clifford, if he should assist him. He might not do it. Thee knows how he feels about such things. He might deem it right to give Clifford up even though he be our cousin. I want father to do right, Sally, but I don’t want Clifford given up, either.”
“Why, of course thee doesn’t,” answered Sally briskly. “And of course, Peggy, ’tis quite right for thy father to feel as he does. I dare say Robert and Fairfax feel the same toward any who is an enemy to the country. ’Tis right for them, but we females are made of softer stuff. Don’t worry, but let thy cousin go home with me. Mother and I will be glad to conceal him until the weather permits him to continue his journey.”
“Oh, Sally! does thee mean that?” cried Peggy breathlessly.
“I do, Peggy. Thee would be surprised to know how many of the British we have helped during the war. As a whole I dislike them intensely,” and Sally drew her lips together vindictively. “When there is a battle I rejoice when we defeat them; but when any of them are in trouble, or danger, I never canthink of them only as mothers’ sons, and so, and so——”
Peggy leaned forward and kissed her.
“I think thee is the dearest girl in the world, Sally Evans,” she said. “Does thee remember that there is a penalty for harboring escaping prisoners?”
“Well, yes; but friendship would not be worth much if it were not willing to incur some risk,” answered her friend sagely. “Where is he?”
“In the chamber above the kitchen, Sally. Let’s go out there. I am consumed with anxiety lest he be discovered.”
The sheriff, followed by his associate Mr. Ledie, David Owen, Robert and Fairfax, having made the rounds of the house came into the entry way just as Sally and Peggy entered it. The men who had been detailed to make the search of the outbuildings and grounds joined them a few moments later.
“He stood just here,” observed the sheriff indicating the place behind the door. “You can see his tracks. What puzzles me is the fact that there are no further traces. He did not go away, as there are no tracks leading awayfrom this place. Neither are there any inside, and the sand on the kitchen floor hath not been disturbed save by the darkey.”
“Hast thou searched the wash-house and the servants’ quarters?” queried Mr. Owen anxiously. “They are all in this building.”
“We have looked through it thoroughly,” declared the sheriff emphatically. “And the barn, and all other buildings. ’Tis most mysterious. He hath disappeared as unaccountably as though whisked out of sight on a witch’s broom. Well, boys, scatter about the grounds again, and see if you can’t find some trace. Some one in the house hath aided in the escape,” he said, turning again to Mr. Owen as the men obeyed his order.
“I do not see who could have done so,” returned David Owen with a troubled look. “There is not one of the household who is not a consistent Whig, and there hath been no opportunity for anything of the sort. When we have not been together in the sitting-room we have been at the table. The girls washed the dishes in the dining-room, but joined us immediately afterward. From the laughter that accompanied the act I would bewilling to wager that no British prisoner had any share in it.”
Peggy did not see the quick glance that passed between Robert Dale and Fairfax Johnson. She had been absent from the room fully a half hour longer than the other girls, but evidently her father had not noticed the fact. Fairfax Johnson spoke abruptly:
“Suppose we take a look about the grounds, Major Dale.”
“Your pardon, gentlemen,” interposed Sheriff Will. “I cannot allow you to go unless one of my men accompanies you. You see all of you are more or less under suspicion until the matter is cleared up, and I prefer that you remain in sight.”
“Just as you say, sir,” replied the youth quickly. “I thought only to be of service.”
“I see not where the fellow could have gone,” mused David Owen, whose distress was evident. “Would that he might be found, if only to release us from suspicion.”
“Well, have you found anything?” demanded the sheriff as his men reëntered the dwelling. “Come into the kitchen, boys. It grows cold.”
“And dark, Mr. Will,” announced one of the men. “Too dark to see much. We shall have to give up for the night.”
“I fear so,” answered the sheriff grumblingly. His manner showed that he was far from satisfied with the result of the search. The house had been gone through thoroughly, and every place that could afford a possible hiding-place ransacked. David Owen and the two youths were of the army. The family was noted for its patriotism, and had offered no objection to the search, yet he showed that he was reluctant to give up. He stood meditatively before the fire, his hands clasped behind him, his glance roving about the room. Suddenly he started forward, and an excited “Ah!” escaped him.
Peggy turned pale, for his eye was resting upon the trap-door. Her father’s glance followed the sheriff’s.
“If any went through that door, Friend Will,” he said casually, “’twas one who is much younger than either of us. In truth, none but a slender youth could draw himself through that door.”
“True,” answered the officer gazing at thedoor thoughtfully. “True, Mr. Owen, yet am I minded to explore it. I like not to leave any place unsearched. It may be that our man is young, and that that is the very place where he lies concealed. Is there a ladder?”
“There was one, but ’tis at the carpenter’s shop to be mended,” answered Mr. Owen. He looked vaguely about the kitchen. “I see not how thee is to get up,” he said.
“I think I could get up there.” Fairfax Johnson sprang lightly upon the table as he spoke. “Will some one hand me a chair?”
“That’s the idea,” cried the sheriff approvingly. “Still, young man, before you undertake this you must understand that there is risk attending it. You will be completely at the mercy of any one who happens to be up there. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Well, some one must go,” replied Fairfax. “One of your men would take the risk in case I don’t. Won’t he?”
“Yes; but—— Well, go on.” A chair was passed up to him, and the youth mounting it pushed the trap-door back slowly.
Peggy’s hand involuntarily went to herheart, and she trembled so that she could scarcely stand. The watchers grew very still as Fairfax Johnson stood for a moment before swinging himself up through the opening. Sally gave a little gasp as he disappeared into the darkness.
“What if—if he should shoot?” she murmured unconsciously speaking aloud.
“’Tis what I’m afraid of,” answered Sheriff Will. “What is it?” he cried, springing upon the table and mounting the chair in a vain effort to see what was taking place in the attic. “Have you found him?” For an unmistakable chuckle came from overhead. It sounded to Peggy as though it were her cousin’s voice. She told herself that she was mistaken, however, when Fairfax Johnson appeared at the opening.
“It’s a rug,” he called, a broad smile illuminating his countenance. “When I stumbled over it I thought it was a bear. I suppose Miss Peggy hath put it up here anent her housekeeping time. Shall I throw it down?”
“No,” answered Sheriff Will, in disgusted tones. “If that’s all there is up there youmight as well come down. We are not hunting articles to set Miss Peggy up.”
“If any of the rest of you wish to come up I think I could help draw him up.” The youth leaned over the side of the opening suggestively.
“No, no,” interposed Mr. Ledie, commissioner of prisoners. “The fellow is evidently not up there, and there is no use wasting time. He must be somewhere else about the premises, or else we have overlooked his tracks.”
“I don’t see how we could,” declared the sheriff. “Anyhow, ’tis getting too dark to do any more to-night. You seem to have found some cobwebs, if you did not find a prisoner, my friend,” he said as Fairfax Johnson swung himself down to the table. “I suppose that we must wish you good-night, Mr. Owen. We may drop in to-morrow.”
“Nay, gentlemen, go not so,” spoke Mr. Owen. “Come, refresh yourselves, I pray you. You will take supper with us after so hard a search. It will not be long before ’tis ready, and ’tis o’er cold to go forth without something warming. Lass, canst thou not help Sukey to get it quickly?”
“Yes, father,” answered Peggy. She was quite herself by this time, but filled with amazement at Fairfax. What a queer compound he was, she thought, glancing over to where the youth stood. He was blushing as Sally helped him to remove the cobwebs from his clothing, and seemed unable to answer the chaff with which she and Robert were plying him. Yet but a short time since he had made that little joke concerning the fur rug and her housekeeping. Had he really seen Clifford?
“Let all of us young people help,” cried Betty gayly coming into the kitchen as Mr. Owen with the sheriff and his men left it.
“Thy help must be confined to the dining-room, Betty,” answered Peggy. “Thee must not be out here in that gown.”
“Then I will set the table,” said Betty. “My, my! what a party we’re having.”
“And we will help too, Peggy,” spoke Robert Dale. “Have you nothing that two great fellows like the captain and myself can do?”
“Plenty, plenty,” laughed Peggy. “Thee may slice the roast beef, Robert, while Friend Fairfax may take the ham. Sally and I willattend to the bread and cake. Sukey, will thee need more wood?”
“No’m,” grumbled Sukey. “I shouldn’t t’ink yer pa’d want ter feed dem folkes aftah de way dey done pried ’roun’ inter ebberyt’ing.”
“Well, it is annoying, of course, Sukey, but after all they were but doing their duty,” answered Peggy slowly.
“Yes’m,” said the black giving her young mistress a sharp look, then turning she busied herself about the fire.
Each one was attending strictly to the task before him, and resolving to embrace the opportunity to talk a few moments with Fairfax Johnson, Peggy took the loaf of bread she was cutting over to the table where the youth was slicing ham.
“Thanks for the sympathies that ye have shown!Thanks for each kindly word, each silent token,That teaches me, when seeming most alone,Friends are around us, though no word be spoken.”—Longfellow.
“Thanks for the sympathies that ye have shown!Thanks for each kindly word, each silent token,That teaches me, when seeming most alone,Friends are around us, though no word be spoken.”
—Longfellow.
“He must not stay there, Mistress Peggy,” said Fairfax in a low tone as the maiden joined him. “The sheriff is not satisfied, and I doubt not will make the search again. He will not wish me to go above again, but will choose one of his own men. It is not safe for your cousin.”
“Thee saw him, then?” breathed Peggy. “Oh, Friend Fairfax, how good thee is not to betray him.”
“It is your cousin,” he said simply. “It was my duty, but friendship hath a duty too. But of that more anon. The thing to do now is to get him down from there while they are at supper.”
“Sally says he may go home with her,”Peggy told him eagerly. “Will thee help us to manage it, Friend Fairfax?”
“I’ll do what I can,” he promised earnestly. “Is she not talking of going after supper?”
“Yes.”
“Let him get down, then, while they are at table, and come boldly to the front door for her. ’Twould be quite natural for some one to call for her, would it not?”
“Why, ’tis the very thing,” cried Peggy. “Of course her mother would send for her on such a night. Only I like not to send her away before she hath finished her supper. ’Tis monstrously inhospitable.”
“’Twill be easier to get him away then than at any other time,” he declared. “She will mind it not if she really wishes to aid you.”
“She will do anything for me,” said Peggy tremulously. Her heart was very full of love toward these friends for the aid they were rendering. “Friend Fairfax, thee has certainly hit upon the very thing.”
“And his boots,” continued the youth. “He hath on the English top-boots of narrow make. ’Twas by them that he was so easily traced. Of late we of the states have manufacturedour own boots, and all citizens wear them save the macaronis. They are not so well finished,” he glanced at his own boots as he spoke with something of regret, “but ’tis that very thing that makes the difference. I have another pair in my portmanteau, Mistress Peggy. I will get them, and you must contrive to have your cousin wear them. He can take his own with him. In this manner the snow will give no trace of his going, for the boots are such as all citizens wear.”
“Thank thee,” said Peggy gratefully. “Thee has taken a great load from my mind, Friend Fairfax. I make no doubt but that all will fall out as thee has planned. What is it, Betty?”
“I was just wondering what there was about slicing cold ham that called for such absorbing interest,” cried Betty who vacillated between the kitchen and the dining-room. “Robert spoke to thee once, and I asked Captain Johnson a question. Neither of you deigned to answer us.”
“Thee may take my place and find the secret,” said Peggy mischievously, so relieved over the plan as outlined by Fairfax that shecould enjoy the diffidence that once more overwhelmed him at Betty’s approach. “I will help Sally with that cake.”
“’Tis just the thing,” declared Sally as Peggy unfolded the arrangement. “And how simple! I like thy friend, Peggy, and yet I cannot help but laugh at his blushes and shyness.”
“I feel the same, Sally,” confessed Peggy with remorse. “He is a dear lad, for all his diffidence, and yet there are times when I am beset with a desire to tease him. Why is it, I wonder, that we females delight to torment such even though they are in very truth heroes?”
“I know not,” answered Sally. “I only know that ’tis true, and ’tis pity we are so constituted. And see, Peggy! The poor fellow is so beset by Betty that he can scarce cut the ham. Shall we go to his rescue?”
“Indeed ’tis time,” laughed Peggy. “Everything is ready for the supper too. Robert, thee has cut that beef well. I knew not that the domestic arts were so well taught in camp.”
“We learn many things, Peggy,” returned he. “Camp hath taught me to carve allfoods. And not only the art of carving hath been taught me, but the far greater one of obtaining the food to carve. Our friend yonder hath evidently not had so much experience, or else Betty’s presence hath converted his fingers into thumbs.”
“’Tis Betty, I fear,” answered Peggy with a laugh. “Do help him, Robert, while the rest of us carry in the things.”
Fairfax resigned the ham to Robert Dale with relief, but did not stay to profit by his expertness. Instead he took a large platter which Peggy was carrying from her, and passed through the entry into the dining-room.
“I will run up for the boots,” he told the girl on coming back to the hallway. “I shall put them in the entry way.”
Peggy nodded, and went in to see that all was in readiness for the meal. The sheriff and his men viewed the bountifully spread table with looks of complacence, and presently every one was gathered around the table. As was natural in the daughter of the house Peggy assisted in the waiting, and was back and forth from the kitchen with tea, hot chocolate, rusks, or whatever might be needed.At length, the opportunity she wished for came, and she found herself alone in the kitchen with Sukey safe for the time being in the dining-room. She lost not a moment.
“Clifford,” she called softly.
“Yes, my cousin.” The trap-door was swung back, and Clifford Owen’s face appeared at the opening. “I say,” he said, “that was a close shave, wasn’t it? If our friend Fairfax had not been the prince of good fellows where would I be now?”
“Where thee will be unless thee acts quickly,” replied his cousin. “He fears that the sheriff will make another search. Thee must swing thyself down, Clifford.” She placed a chair upon the table as she finished speaking, and held it to steady it. In an instant he stood beside her.
“Thou art to go home with my friend, Sally Evans,” explained the girl. “’Tis dangerous to stay here, my cousin.”
“Yes, I know,” he answered. “I heard them talking. I tell you I held my breath when Fairfax stumbled over me.”
“Yes, yes,” she said hurriedly. “Thee must not talk now, Clifford, but act. Fairfaxbrought down a pair of his boots for thee. Thou art to put them on, and carry thine own. Thine are of English make, and leave telltale marks. Then thee must betake thyself to the front door, and sound the knocker boldly. Thou art to say that thou hast come for Mistress Sally Evans. Sally will join thee, and take thee to her mother’s where thee can remain safely until ’tis fitting weather for thee to pursue thy journey to New York. Does thee understand?”
“Peggy,” he said sorrowfully, “I am putting too much risk upon you and this friend of yours. I might as well let the sheriff take me and be done with it. I will do it rather than cause you so much worry.”
“Oh, will thee hurry,” pleaded the girl bringing the boots from the entry way. “There is so little time, my cousin. To-morrow I will come to thee at Sally’s, and then we can have a long talk. Now thee must act. Sukey may come in at any time. Or Tom. Oh!” in a despairing tone as the latch of the door leading into the main building clicked its warning. “’Tis too late. Why, ’tis Sally!”
“Thee forgot the quince conserve, Peggy,” said Sally trying vainly to act as though Peggy was alone. “Thy mother sent me for it. She told Sukey to come, but I jumped up and said that I would get it.”
“Sally, this is Clifford,” spoke Peggy. “And oh, he won’t hurry. He talks of trouble and worry when he should be doing. Clifford, this is my dearest friend, Sally Evans.”
“Truly thee would better be in haste,” said Sally, making her best bow. “Thee must see that every moment adds to thy cousin’s distress, and also to thy danger. I marvel that the sheriff’s men have left us so long alone. Mother and I will in truth welcome thee.”
“But I have no claim upon you,” he expostulated. “For you to take such a risk for an Englishman——”
“As an Englishman thee hasn’t a particle of claim, of course,” interrupted Sally. “As an Englishman thee deserves anything that might happen, but as a human being in distress thee has every claim upon us. Now hadn’t thee better be moving? Where is the conserve, Peggy?”
“How do I know that I can trust you?” he said abruptly.
“Clifford!” exclaimed Peggy indignantly, but Sally laughed, and swept him a deep courtesy.
“Peggy must have told thee what an ogress I am,” she said. “Know then, Friend Clifford, that I have a deep and dark dungeon where I cast all Englishmen of thy profession. If thee is afraid thee would better take thy chances with the night and storm.”
“Afraid?” he echoed, a deep flush mantling his brow. “I, Clifford Owen, afraid?”
“Then thee had better put on those boots, and be about thy departure,” said Sally calmly. “Peggy, if we don’t take in those conserves the supper will be over. Hurry, friend. Keep thy cloak well about thee to hide that uniform, and on no account venture into the hall. Thee will not have to wait for me. Come, Peggy.”
But before Peggy followed her she ran to Clifford and clasped his hand.
“’Tis the only way, my cousin,” she whispered. “And oh, do be quick.”
“I will, Peggy,” he replied. “Fear nothing. I will carry out my part.”
With palpitating heart Peggy went with Sally into the dining-room, and resumed her task of waiting on the table. Sally reseated herself and joined merrily in the conversation. It seemed a long time ere the great knocker on the front door sounded. In reality it was but a few moments after the girls left the kitchen. Sukey entered the hall to answer it before Peggy could reach the door. The darkey reëntered the room almost immediately.
“A pusson has come fer Miss Sally,” she announced. “He say he am come ter take her home.”
“He?” Sheriff Will looked up with a laugh. “Come, come! that sounds interesting. Let’s have him in, Miss Sally, and see what he looks like.”
“Yes, my dear,” spoke Mrs. Owen. “Thee has not finished thy supper. Sit down, and thy escort shall come in, and have supper too.”
Peggy’s heart almost stopped beating at this, and the color forsook Sally’s cheeks. Neither of them had foreseen anything of this kind,and they were rendered speechless by the untoward incident. Sally was saved the necessity of a reply by Robert Dale.
“I think I object, Mistress Owen,” he said speaking with deliberation. “Any one who is going to take Sally away from us doesn’t deserve any supper. I was promising myself the pleasure of seeing her home.”
“Oh, ho!” roared the sheriff. “Sits the wind in that quarter!”
“Never mind, Mrs. Owen,” spoke Sally, her quick wit taking advantage of the diversion. “I will bring him to see thee when Robert isn’t about. And I really must go. Mother expected me this afternoon, but so much hath happened that I overstayed my time. I dare say she is waiting supper for me. Good-night, and good-bye to all,” she added. She made a fetching little mouth at Robert as she went through the door but her eyes held a look of gratitude.
Peggy accompanied her into the hall. Clifford was waiting outside on the steps, and none of the three spoke until, wrapped and bundled for the trip, Sally joined him.
“I’ll never forget this, Sally,” murmuredPeggy, giving her friend a little squeeze. “And I’ll be down to-morrow.”
“Be sure to,” answered Sally. “Come, friend,” turning to Clifford. “We must not linger.”
Full of relief and gladness Peggy reëntered the dining-room.