“Oh, I wonder if Lady Washington hath returned yet from headquarters,” cried Peggy so interested in the fact that she might again behold that lady that she forgot that it was raining. “I would like so much to see her! I knew her quite well at Middlebrook in New Jersey when the army lay there for winter quarters two years ago. Mother and I were there with father.”

“’Tis early for her to return from headquarters, is it not?” asked the nurse, touching the horse lightly with the whip. “Methinks that I have heard her say that she always heard the first and last guns of a campaign; and campaigns do not begin in April at the North.”

“True,” said Peggy. “Then will it not be an intrusion to go there during her absence?”

“Intrusion to escape a thunder-storm?” laughed Mrs. Johnson. “Hardly, my child. We should be welcome even though we did not seek to avoid a drenching. The general hath left orders with his overseer, Mr. Lund Washington, that hospitality should be extended to every one the same as though he were there in person. Then too every one in this part of the country goes to Mount Vernon for help in every sort of distress. Oh, yes! we shall be very welcome.”

“Mount Vernon?” mused the girl. “I wonder why ’tis so called? We call our country home ‘Strawberry Hill,’ but that is because of the vast quantities of strawberries that grow there. I see not why the general should call his place Mount Vernon.”

“I can enlighten you as to that, Peggy. The estate formerly belonged to his half-brother, Lawrence Washington. He too was of a military turn, and served with Admiral Vernon of the British Navy in an expedition against Carthagena in South America. He married Anne Fairfax on his return, and built this house on the estate left him by his father. So great was his admiration for the gallant admiral that he called his home Mount Vernon, in his honor. There was but one child born of the union, and on her death General George Washington, who was a great favorite with his brother, became his heir. Lawrence died also, so the general came into possession. He hath left the place much as his brother had it, though he contemplates its enlargement when relieved of military duty, I hear. My husband’s mother was of the Fairfax family, which is the reason my son is so called. ’Tis the fashion among Virginians to give family names to their children. There! we are going to be caught by the storm after all!”

There came a vivid flash of lightning followed by a deafening peal of thunder as she finished speaking. Their horse reared in affright, then plunged forward in a terrified run. The storm was upon them in all its fury. The rain beat into the cabriolet from all sides, and soon they abandoned any effort to keep dry. It seemed to Peggy that she had never seen such a storm before, and never had she been out in such a one. The rain came down in torrents. Flash after flash of dazzling light darted across the sky, accompanied by a continuous roar of thunder like the discharge of artillery. It was impossible to hear each other speak, so they drew close together, the nurse controlling the horse as best she could.

Suddenly as they ascended a small steep hill from the edge of a wild ravine the mansion with all its surroundings came into view. Peggy forgot that her garments were wet through and through; forgot that it was raining so hard that the outlines of the dwelling were blurred and indistinct, and leaned forward eagerly to see the home of General Washington.

Stately trees shaded the lodges which stood on each side of the entrance gate; and, as they drove through, a colored boy darted from one of the lodges and taking hold of the bridle rein ran abreast of the animal with them to the dwelling.

The villa, as General Washington called it, was at this time not so large as it is now, the general having enlarged and added to the mansion after the Revolution. It was, however, a house of the first class then occupied by thrifty Virginia planters; of the old gable-roofed style, two stories in height, with a porch in front, and a chimney built inside, at each end, contrary to the prevailing custom. It stood upon a most lovely spot, on the brow of a gentle slope which ended at a thickly wooded precipitous river bank, its summit nearly one hundred feet above the water. Before it swept the Potomac with a magnificent curve, and beyond the broad river lay the green fields and shadowy forests of Maryland.

The door opened as the carriage reached the porch, and a man came hastily to their assistance. He said not a word until they were safely within the entrance hall, and then he turned to Nurse Johnson with a smile.

“Well, well, Hannah Johnson,” he said. “Who would ever have thought of seeing you here? Quite a little sprinkle we’re having.”

“I should say it was a sprinkle, Lund Washington,” retorted Nurse Johnson, gazing ruefully at her wet clothing. “It strikes me more like a baptism; and you know I don’t hold with immersion.”

“I know,” he said laughing. “Never mind. We’ll soon get you fixed up.” Mr. Lund Washington was General Washington’s relative, who had charge of the estate while the owner was away to the war.

At this moment a pleasant-faced, plump little woman came bustling into the hall, and hastened to greet them.

“I could not come sooner, Hannah,” she said. “I was making a lettuce tart which we are to have for supper. Come right up-stairs, both of you, and change that wet clothing. Nay, my child,” as Peggy mindful of her dripping garments hesitated. “It doth not matter about the dripping. All that concerns us is to get you both into dry garments.”

With such a welcome Peggy felt at home at once, and followed the overseer’s wife obediently up the broad stairway to one of the chambers above. Mrs. Washington went to a chest of drawers and drew forth some folded garments.

“These are just the things for you, my dear,” she said. “They were Martha’s, and will fit you exceedingly well.”

“I thank thee,” said Peggy taking them reverently, for Martha had been Lady Washington’s only daughter, and she had been told of her early death.

“I see you are a Quakeress,” said Mrs. Washington pleasantly. “We have many such down here, though not so many as are in your state. How vastly the frock becomes her. Doth it not, Hannah?”

“It does indeed,” replied Nurse Johnson glancing at the girl with approval. “Child, you should never wear aught but colors. You were never made for the quiet garb of your sect.”

“Some of our Society are not so strict anent such matters as they might be,” Peggy told them, a smile coming to her lips as she recalled the numerous rebukes concerning gay apparel given by the elders at the meetings. “’Tis only of late that I have dressed so quietly.”

“Now, my dear,” spoke Mrs. Washington, setting a dainty lace cap on the maiden’s dark hair, “look in the mirror, and see if the result doth not please you.”

“It pleases me well,” answered Peggy surveying her reflection with a smile. “In truth it hath been long since I have been arrayed so gayly. Mother doth not approve of much dressing while the war lasts.”

“Your mother is right,” concurred the lady with warmth. “Mrs. Washington feels just the same about the matter. Still, I doubt if your mother would remain of that opinion were she to see you now. Would that she could, or that a limner^[6] were here to depict your likeness.”

In truth the girl made a charming picture in the dainty frock of dove-colored Persian flowered with roses of cherry hue, and finished with a frill of soft lace from which her white throat rose fair and girlish. A pair of high-heeled red slippers completed the costume, and Peggy would have been more than human if her eyes had not brightened, and her cheeks flushed at her image in the mirror.

Mrs. Washington led them at once to the great dining-room, where they found Mr. Washington, and young Fairfax Johnson who had arrived a short time after them. The storm had ceased, but the clouds still hung dark and lowering, producing an early twilight. A house servant was just lighting the myrtle-berry candles in the lusters as they entered the room, and the light glinted from the floor, scoured to a shining whiteness. The blacks brought in the supper immediately, and the little party gathered about the table informally. Peggy found herself seated beside Fairfax Johnson.

A spirit of mischief seized her, and made her sit silent, waiting for him to speak.

“For,” she thought roguishly, “’twill never do in the world to have naught to record for the girls but those two remarks, ‘It looks like rain,’ and ‘It is raining.’ If I do not speak he must, or else be guilty of discourtesy.”

Her patience was soon rewarded. The youth struggled bravely with his bashfulness, and presently turned to her.

“It hath stopped raining,” he said.

Peggy’s dimples came suddenly, and her eyes twinkled, but she answered demurely:

“It hath, Friend Fairfax, for which I am glad. It was a severe storm. Did thee get very wet?”

“Yes,” he answered. “It rained hard.”

“Oh, dear!” thought the girl. “Will he never have anything to say except about that rain? I wonder what Betty would do? Such a nice lad should be broken of his shyness.” Then aloud: “And Star, friend? Is she all right?”

“Yes. Didn’t seem to mind it a bit, after the first scare. Did you get wet?”

“Yes. Monstrously so,” replied Peggy, surprised that he was doing so well. “He won’t need any help if this continues,” was her mental comment. Then, “Mrs. Washington gave me some of Lady Washington’s daughter’s clothes to wear. They just fit me. Was she not kind?”

“Very,” he answered briefly. “If—if getting wet always makes you look like you do to-night you had better get wet every day,” he blurted out abruptly, and then turned from her decidedly, blushing furiously.

Peggy caught her breath at the suddenness of the thing, and colored also.

“Peggy, Peggy,” she chided herself reproachfully. “Thee should not have spoke about thy frock. No doubt the lad deemed it duty to say something of the kind to thee. ’Twas not seemly in thee. And how shall I answer him?”

She was saved the necessity of a reply, however, by Mr. Washington, who said:

“You are quite well acquainted with the general and his wife, Hannah tells me, Miss Peggy. If ’twould please you to see something of the estate I will take you about a little in the morning before you start. You should see something of the place while you are in these parts.”

“Oh, I should be pleased,” cried Peggy her animation returning at this. “Thee is very kind, sir.”

“The pleasure will be mine,” was the courteous reply.

And so it happened that Peggy rose betimes the next morning, but early as she deemed it Mr. Washington was awaiting her. He had a little pony saddled and bridled ready for her to mount.

“We will have time for a short look about before breakfast,” he said kindly. “’Tis my custom to ride to all the farms through the day, as the general does when he is home. ’Twould take too long for us to do that, but you can form an idea of the extent of the plantation by this dÉtour.”

Thanking him Peggy mounted, and they set off at a brisk pace. All trace of the storm had passed save a dewy freshness of the air, and the wetness of the grass. The sun was shining with all the warmth and brightness of an April day in Virginia. The birds were twittering amid the new-born leaves, and the hyacinths and tulips were coming to their glory in the gardens. The smiles of cultivation were on every hand, and the air was heavy with the perfume of growing things after a rain.

The grounds in the immediate vicinity of the mansion were laid out in the English taste, Mr. Washington told her. The estate itself consisted of ten thousand acres which were apportioned into farms, devoted to different kinds of culture, each having its allotted laborers. Much, however, was still wild woodland, seamed with deep dells and runs of water, and indentured with inlets; haunts of deer and lurking places of foxes. The whole woody region along the Potomac with its forest and range of hills afforded sports of various kinds, and was a noble hunting ground.

The girl found that the plantation was a little empire in itself. The mansion house was the seat of government, with dependencies, such as kitchens, smoke-houses, work-shops and stables. There were numerous house servants for domestic service, and a host of field negroes for the culture of the crops. Their quarters formed a kind of hamlet apart, composed of various huts with little gardens and poultry yards, all well stocked, and swarming with little darkies gamboling in the sunshine.

Among the slaves were artificers of all kinds: tailors, shoemakers, carpenters, wheelwrights, smiths, and so on; so that the plantation produced everything within itself for ordinary use. The time was too short to permit of Peggy’s seeing more than a small part of the whole, but she saw enough to permit of an estimate of the estate. As they returned to the mansion Mr. Washington assisted her to dismount, saying as he did so:

“No view of Mount Vernon is complete without a look at the Potomac from the wharf, Miss Peggy. You will just have time for that before the call comes for breakfast. Be quick; for yonder comes Mrs. Washington, and she won’t want the cakes to cool.”

“I will be back in a minute,” cried Peggy catching his mood. Laughing gayly she ran swiftly across the sward under the trees and on to the wharf, which lay a little below the mansion, in front of the deer park.

“This is the place in truth for a fine view,” commented the girl as she reached the extreme end of the wharf. “Peggy, take a good long look. Thee will never have another chance, I fear. Heigh-ho! what will the girls say to this? ’Twill take the most of three pages in the diary to transcribe the half of this momentous day. It is a beautiful river, though of course I am partial to my own Delaware. No wonder the general loves his home. How the river winds and curves——Why!”

Peggy stopped short in her musings, and opened her eyes wide in surprise; for a large ship was bearing directly toward the wharf. For a moment she gazed, and then, as the ship veered slightly in her course, she caught sight of the flag at the taffrail. And at sight of that flag every drop of color left her face. For the flag was the emblem of England, and the ship was headed for Mount Vernon.

[6] Portrait-painter.