Instantly the little town was all commotion. From every quarter men came running in answer to the call, ready to defend their homes from the invader; while women huddled together in groups, or gathered their treasures and fled with them to the forest. Mustered at length, the militia, pitifully few in numbers, sallied forth to meet the enemy. From the southward came the strains of martial music as the British approached, and mothers, wives, and sisters waited in breathless suspense the result of the encounter. The sound of a few shots was borne presently on the breeze, followed by the rush of running men, and the militia which had “There are thousands of them,” cried the panting men. “We could not stand against the whole British army.” On they ran, while from the other direction came the first division of Major-General Phillips’ army, the Queen’s Rangers, under Lieutenant-Colonel Simcoe, which marched in with drums beating, and colors flying. At the first alarm Peggy had paused abruptly, hardly knowing what to do. Her first impulse had been to return to the cottage, but remembering that Fairfax was with the militia, and Nurse Johnson somewhere about the hospital, she hesitated. As she did so there came a peremptory voice from the bed: “Mistress Peggy!” “Well, my cousin?” Peggy went back to Clifford reluctantly. “Are my people truly coming?” “They seem to be,” answered the girl. “And where were you going?” “I really don’t know,” answered she. “I would be alone at Nurse Johnson’s cottage, “Stay by me,” he said. “But thee has hardly ceased telling me that thee does not want me near thee?” cried the girl opening wide her eyes in surprise. “I have not changed my opinion concerning the matter,” he said grimly. “But I am an English officer, and the safest place for you is by my bedside. Therefore, mistress, I command you to sit here by my bed.” “I don’t want thy protection,” began Peggy hotly. “I think I prefer thy soldiers.” “Did I want your nursing?” he demanded savagely. “No, I did not; yet was I compelled to submit to it. And while I did not desire your attendance, still you have attended me. For what purpose I know not, nor doth it now matter. The fact remains that I am under an obligation of which I would be quit. I will requite whatever of service you have rendered me by procuring exemption from “Clifford Owen,” retorted the maiden so bitterly angry that she could scarcely speak, “were it not for those friends who have been so kind to me, I would die rather than accept aught from thy hands. But because of them I will take whatever of favor thee can obtain for us. But ’tis under protest. Under strong protest, I would have thee understand.” “So?” he said. “That is quite as it should be.” For one long instant the two gazed at each other. The lad’s whole appearance betokened the keenest enjoyment of the situation. He looked as though he had received a draught of an elixir of life, so animated and strong did he appear. Peggy, on the contrary, found no pleasure in the state of things. She was as near blind, unreasoning wrath as her gentle nature ever came. Had it not been for Nurse Johnson and her son, she would have left her cousin’s The streets of the little city thronged with the red coats of the British, and they took possession of public buildings, dwellings, and shops as though they were masters returning to their own. It was not long before several soldiers under the leadership of an officer made their appearance in the hospital. Rapidly they went through the rooms searching for British prisoners among the wounded and sick inmates. There was no rudeness nor annoyance of any sort offered to either the American sick, or their white-faced nurses. As they approached his bed Clifford sat up stiffly, and gave the officer’s salute. “Ha!” cried the English officer. “What have we here?” and he paused beside him. “I am Captain Williams, of the Forty-eighth Regiment, sir,” declared Clifford with another salute. “I have been a prisoner with the enemy since the last week of February.” “Ha! yes; I remember. Taken at Westchester while “The very same, sir. And this,” indicating Peggy, “is my cousin, Mistress Margaret Owen, of Philadelphia, who hath been put to no small inconvenience by my illness. She hath nursed me back to health, or at least until I am on the road to recovery. For the sake of whatever service I have been able to render General Sir Henry Clinton, I beg you to see that neither she, nor any of the inmates of the house where she dwells, be subjected to annoyance. She hath also a pony, I believe, of which she is very fond. Wilt see that it is exempted from impressment? It is needless to say that any favor rendered me in the matter will not go without recompense.” A significant glance was exchanged between the two which Peggy did not notice. What she did see, however, was that the officer saluted in turn, saying pompously: “Whatever you desire in the matter, captain, will be done. If the young lady will come with me to show me the house I will at once put a guard on the premises. I promise that she will suffer no annoyance of any sort.” As Clifford spoke of her as his cousin, Peggy felt a quick revulsion of feeling. It was the first time he had so called her. Then, as he openly acknowledged his indebtedness to her nursing, the girl’s anger toward him died away. After all, she thought, the lad was doing his best to repay her for what she had done. That he was doing it from a desire to be quit of the obligation did not matter in the least. She knew now how he had felt during the time when he had submitted to her attentions, and a sense of justice made her aware that he was acquitting himself handsomely. And so as she rose to accompany the officer to the cottage, she said humbly: “I thank thee, my cousin. I will not forget thy kindness in the matter.” A puzzled look came into the youth’s eyes at her changed demeanor, but he merely gave a slight bow, and motioned her to go on with the officer. But Peggy was not yet through with him. “May I come again to attend thee?” she asked in a low tone. “Thee is not well yet, thee must know.” “Yes,” he said. “Come, and you will, And in much better spirits than she had deemed possible a few moments before the girl accompanied the officer to the cottage. Nurse Johnson came to the door wringing her hands as they neared the entrance. “There will be naught left, Peggy,” she said despairingly. “The soldiers are in the house now stripping it of everything. ’Twill be a mercy if the house is left.” Before Peggy could make reply the officer removed his cocked hat, bowing courteously. “That shall be stopped immediately, madam,” he said. “War is not a gentle thing, and sometimes suffering must fall upon even our friends. In this case, however, your inconvenience will be short.” The good woman had not recovered from her bewilderment at this speech, ere he pushed past her into the house, and they heard him reprimanding the looting soldiers sharply. “What doth it mean, child?” she gasped as every article taken was restored to its place, and a guard mounted before the dwelling. “’Tis Clifford,” Peggy told her. “He insisted that my friends and I should not be subjected to annoyance by his people as a return for nursing him.” “Well, of all things!” exclaimed the nurse. “And you thought he did not like you!” “He doesn’t, friend nurse. He made sure that I should understand that his feeling toward me had not changed, but he felt that he was under an obligation of which he would be quit. Still,” a little gleam came into Peggy’s eyes as she spoke, “he did think that he would not mind my ministering to him so much now.” “Of course not,” laughed Nurse Johnson. “He will think it his due now. Isn’t that like an Englishman? But I am very thankful none the less, though I see not how he could do other than he hath done. It is certainly reassuring to know that we shall not be molested.” So Peggy and her friend stayed in the cottage, or went back and forth to the hospital untroubled, save for the irksomeness of having “I have misjudged my cousin,” thought Peggy with a warm glow of gratitude toward the lad as she prepared his breakfast the next morning. “And yesterday I was so angry. Peggy, Peggy! will thee never learn to govern thy temper? Thee must be more patient, and guard thy unruly tongue better. Heigh-ho! ’tis an adventurous jaunt after all, though still I would I were with mother. There! I don’t believe that my cousin will ignore my offering this morning.” And with this she placed a few violets on the platter, and started for the hospital, going through the gate of the orchard which opened into Palace Street. As she closed the gate and turned in the direction of the hospital she saw an officer coming down the street. There was something strangely familiar in his appearance, and Peggy was so impressed with the idea that it was some one she had met that she regarded |