Peggy Owen and Liberty Part 12

"War breeds suspicion, my child," explained Mr. Owen gravely. "The purest patriots are open to it; for sometimes treason lurks where 'tis least suspected. Were it not that a close watch is kept we should have been betrayed to our undoing long since by traitors and spies. For greater security, therefore, Whigs submit to an espionage that at times is most irksome and unpleasant."

"I see," said Sally. "I see. I---- Oh, I'm so tired!"

And with that--here was Sally on the floor in a dead faint. With an exclamation of alarm Peggy bent over her.

"All this hath been too much for her," she cried. "And 'tis my fault.

Oh! I should not have let her help with Clifford."

"Nay, Peggy; she hath not been strong for some time," returned Mrs.

Evans, as Mrs. Owen and Nurse Johnson brought burnt feathers and vinegar. "She overtaxed her strength at the hospital which is the reason that she hath remained at home this spring. She must have a change when a little stronger."

So, on her return to consciousness, Sally found herself put to bed and declared an invalid. Peggy insisted on being installed as chief nurse.

"But I shall go down-stairs to-day, Peggy," spoke Sally on the morning of Wednesday. "I heard Nurse Johnson say last night that thy father was to start for Lancaster this afternoon."

"He is, Sally. And what does thee think? Robert is to go with him."

"Robert?" exclaimed Sally amazed. "Why, Peggy, his furlough hath but just begun."

"I know. Father reminded him of it, but he thought the prospect alluring, because father spoke of the danger of robbers. It seems that the woods of the great road to Lancaster is infested with them, and that government stores are their especial prey. The journey will be fraught with no little peril."

"How quickly he tired of us," mused Sally. "Here 'twas only Fifth-day of last week that he came, and now he is to take to the field again.

Fie, fie! Is that the gallantry of the military?"

"Perchance," answered Peggy laughing at her friend, "perchance, Sally, he hath been without leave for so long that he doth not know what to do with himself when off duty."

"I dare say, Peggy. Oh, dear! would I were going somewhere. I would not care how much danger there was if I could get away for a time."

Sally sighed deeply. "I have been here all my life, Peggy, save for the summers we've spent at the farm. I wish I could have a change."

Nurse Johnson entered the room as the girl concluded her remarks.

"It is anent that very thing that I have come to speak to you both,"

she said seating herself on the side of the bed. "Why could not you and Peggy go to Jersey with me for a while? You need a change, Miss Sally, and my sister is near enough to the coast for you to have the benefit of the sea air. She hath a large house, and likes young company. We will give you a fine time, and 'twould do you no end of good. Will ye go?"

"Oh, I should like it," cried Sally eagerly. "If Peggy will go I am sure that mother would be pleased to have me accept, Friend Nurse.

Will thee, Peggy?"

"I'll have to see mother about it, Sally," answered Peggy slowly. She did not like the thought of leaving home again even for a few days, but Sally did need a change. She had extricated her from a grave difficulty, and so, stifling a sigh, she added: "I will go if mother will consent to it."

"I'm going to get up," spoke Sally decidedly. "When did thee wish to start, Friend Nurse?"

"I should like to go to-morrow," answered Nurse Johnson. "Fairfax hath made arrangements for a large sled to use in place of the double wagon in which we came. That will make traveling easy, and we should start while the snow is on the ground. Should there come a warm spell the roads would be terrible."

"Let's go right down-stairs to see about it," cried Sally. "If we go to-morrow there will be need for haste. See, Friend Nurse, the mere thought of going with thee hath given me strength. How much better I do feel already."

"I'll see that you have some color in these pale cheeks before I'm through with you," declared Nurse Johnson pinching them lightly.

"With Peggy and me to look after you a few days will make a great difference in you. Yes; let's see about it right away."

After all the matter was not mentioned immediately. David Owen had received some further orders which hastened his departure, and in the confusion of preparation the subject was not broached. It was at the tea table that Nurse Johnson unfolded the plan.

"And the raids, Friend Johnson?" spoke Mistress Owen. "Doth thy sister live where she would be subjected to them?"

"When Brother Tom wrote he said that there had been no trouble since Yorktown," answered Nurse Johnson. "Did I think for one moment that there was danger I should not wish to take them into it. But Freehold is some distance from the coast, though the sea breezes have an appreciable effect upon the climate, and 'twill be of benefit to both girls to get away for a little while. Miss Sally certainly needs the change. I would take good care of them."

"I do not doubt it, friend," answered Peggy's mother. She saw that Sally was eager for the trip, and knew that the girl's mother would consent to it only on condition that Peggy would go also. Both Mrs.

Owen and her daughter felt that it would be ungracious to refuse, and consent was given.

So it came about that the next morning, so well wrapped up that they declared themselves unable to breathe, Peggy and Sally were helped into the big double sleigh that Fairfax had secured, and the journey toward New Jersey was begun.

There is something exhilarating about the beginning of any journey.

Add to it youth, brilliant sunshine, the keen air of a frosty morning, and the high spirits of the maidens will be understood. Sally was almost wild with delight.

"Oh, Friend Fairfax," she cried leaning forward to speak to him as the party sped away, the snow creaking under the runners, "isn't this just the nicest ride thee ever took? Isn't thee having just the best time?"

"Yes," answered the youth so briefly that her face clouded. Fairfax was once more enveloped in his garb of bashfulness, and attended strictly to the driving, letting the task of entertaining their guests fall upon his mother.

"I do believe that he is feeling bad because Betty hath not come,"

pouted Sally in a mischievous aside. "Doesn't thee, Peggy?"

To Peggy's amus.e.m.e.nt the youth turned quickly:

"I am, Mistress Sally. I--I'd like all three here."

And thus, with laughter and light conversation, the day pa.s.sed. The beautiful country places which had bordered the road near Philadelphia gave way to pleasant villages, and these in turn were succeeded by thick woods whose pure clean beauty elicited exclamations of delight.

In many places the road was unbroken, and the sleigh pa.s.sed under white laden branches which drooped heavily, and which at the slightest jar would discharge their burden over the party in miniature snow-storms. They had made such a late start that it was decided to lie at Bristol for the night, and reached that place as the afternoon sun began to cast long chill shadows through the darkening woods and to shroud the way in fast deepening obscurity.

Across the Delaware the road took them through dense forests, and over trackless vacancies of snow-clad s.p.a.ces into which the highway disappeared. There were a few scattering villages, and near these they encountered travelers, but on the highroad they met no one. In spite of themselves this fact wore upon them. The cold was not severe, but there was a stillness that held a penetrating chillness of its own.

The country was undulating, swelling into an elevation called the Atlantic Highlands near the coast, and into the range of mountains in the north known as the Kittatinny Hills. All were well covered with forests of pine.

By noon of the third day they emerged from the woods, and found a long stretch of white-clad country before them. A few farms could be seen in the far distance, but otherwise there was no sign of life on the wide expanse. It seemed to Peggy and Sally that the highway lay over vast snow fields, and the glare of the sunlight on the snow began to blur and blind them.

"I should welcome the sight of bird or beast," observed Nurse Johnson.

"The stillness hath been oppressive to-day. 'Tis the hard part of winter travel. In summer there is always the hum of insect, or the song of bird to while away the monotony of a journey, but in the winter there is naught to break the quiet. 'Tis as though all Nature slept under the blanket of snow. Still, the riding hath not been hard.

A sleigh is so much easier than a wagon. You girls are tired, though, I can see. What are you looking at, Sally?"

"There seems to be something moving over there," answered Sally indicating some small elevations about three miles to the north of the road. "Thee will get thy wish, Friend Nurse, for something is surely moving about. We have seen naught for so long that any living thing is curious. What are those specks, Friend Fairfax? They are too large for ducks."

The youth turned and gazed steadily at the sand-hills to which she pointed. They were covered with snow which made them appear like ice hummocks in the sunshine, and which rendered the small black objects moving among them very distinct.

"They look to me like men," remarked Peggy who sat on the front seat beside Fairfax.

"They are men," he responded. "Men and horses."

"I wonder what they are doing there," cried Sally.

The youth did not reply, and Peggy caught the look that pa.s.sed between him and his mother. She bent toward him quickly.

"What is it?" she asked. "What does thee fear?"