Peggy Owen Patriot Part 4

"Oh, Robert!" wailed Peggy bursting into tears. "My horse is stolen! My pretty, pretty pony that father gave me!"

"Star stolen?" cried the youth aghast. Tom told his story again.

"And the door was fastened last night, you say? How about the door into the yard, Tom?"

"I lock hit wid a padlock," declared Tom. "Dey wuz both fasten'd, Marster Dale. 'Clare ter goodness dey wuz! I did it my own sef. I fastens de inside doah on de inside, an' de outside one on de outside.

De front one wuz locked dis mo'nin', but de back one wuz wide open."

"Then some one must have been hiding inside," declared Robert. "I will take a look through the barn."

With Sally's arm about her, Peggy and her friend followed the youth to the stables. The lad mounted the ladder that led to the mow, and presently called down excitedly:

"There hath been some one here of a truth. Here is a place where he hath lain concealed in the straw, and the remnants of food that hath been eaten. 'Tis all as plain as day!"

"But Star?" questioned Peggy with quivering lips as Robert descended the ladder and stood once more beside them.

"We'll do everything we can to find her, Peggy," answered the boy as cheerfully as he could. "Now let us tell the others. They will be wondering what the matter is."

"Oh, Peggy, what will you do for a horse to go with us?" cried Betty Williams as the party of young people heard the news.

"She may take mine," suggested Robert. "I will stay here to see what can be done about Star."

"That is good of thee," said Peggy, wiping her eyes. "Do thou, Sally, and all the others go on as planned. If Robert will stay to do whatever can be done there is no need of any one else. 'Twould be mean to spoil thy pleasuring just for my sake."

And so, despite their protests the young people were sent on, and Robert turned to Peggy.

"Weep no more," he entreated, "but give me your aid in writing an advertis.e.m.e.nt. This we will put in 'The Packet,' as that paper will appear before 'The Gazette,' and that may bring some result. That will be the best thing to do, will it not, Madam Owen?"

"I think so, Robert. And offer a reward also. It may meet the eye of the person who took the mare and induce him to return her. I like not to think of any taking her, though. Philadelphia is changed indeed."

"It is, madam. Naught is safe though General Arnold strives to enforce strict military rule. War doth indeed cause sad havoc with the morals of people. How much shall the reward be?"

"One hundred dollars," answered the lady, after a moment's calculation.

"What a help thou art."

"'Tis a pleasure," returned he gallantly. "Beside, is not your husband in the field while we who dally here have naught to do? 'Tis good to have something beside pleasuring to divert the mind. And the advertis.e.m.e.nt? 'Tis highly fas.h.i.+onable to have it writ in verse. I like it not, but anything in the mode commands more attention. If you will help me, Peggy, perhaps I can compa.s.s it, though straight prose is more to my liking."

So, drying her eyes, Peggy brought forth inkhorn and quills, and the two evolved the following advertis.e.m.e.nt, which followed the fas.h.i.+on of the day:

ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD!

Last night was stole away from me A likely jet-black mare was she Just four years old this month or nigh, About fourteen and half hands high; She's in good order and doth trot, And paceth some, I'm sure of that; Is wondrous pretty; a small star In her forehead there doth appear; Her tail was waved three days ago Just like her mane, you'll find it so; Above her eyes, if you come near, She's very hollow, that is clear; She has new fore shoes on, this I know- I had her shod a week ago.

The above reward it will be sure To any person that secures Said thief and mare, that I may see My mare again restor'd to me.

Or Fifty Dollars for the mare, If the thief should happen to get clear; All traveling charges if brought home Upon the nail I will pay down.

"There!" declared Robert Dale when the two had completed their labor.

"There will be no more elegant effusion in the paper. 'Tis finely writ and to the point. I'll take it at once to Mr. Dunlap, so that he may put it into Sat.u.r.day's 'Packet.' If that doesn't fetch your mare back, Peggy, I don't know what will."

CHAPTER IV-A GIRL'S SACRIFICE

"In Being's floods, in Action's storm, I walk and work, above, beneath, Work and weave in endless motion!

Birth and Death, An infinite ocean; A seizing and giving The fire of living: 'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply, And weave for G.o.d the Garment thou seest Him by."

-"Faust," Gthe.

"Thee is troubled, mother," observed Peggy as she and Mrs. Owen left the yard of Christ Church where they had been attending morning service.

The meeting-house which was built for the use of those Quakers who had so far departed from the tenets of the Society of Friends as to array themselves on the side of their country had not yet been erected, and the Free Quakers, as they were called, were therefore compelled to attend wors.h.i.+p of other churches, or content themselves with "religious retirement," as family service was called.

"I am, Peggy," answered the lady a look of anxiety overcasting her face.

"Let us walk for a little before returning home. It may be that the air will soothe my feelings."

Seeing that her mother wished to be left in quiet the girl walked sedately by her side, ever and anon stealing a glance of apprehension at the lady's face. Presently Mrs. Owen spoke:

"Tis naught to make thee look so uneasy, child. I am concerned over the city, and the extravagance that abounds on every side. See the ferment that it is in! Formerly on First Day the streets were orderly and quiet.

Now observe what a noisy throng fills the thoroughfares. Let us walk on.

Perchance at Wicaco we may find the peace and quiet we seek."

The quiet, sedate city of Penn had in truth lost its air of demure respectability. As the metropolis of the colonies it attracted all those adventurers of the older countries who sought to mend their fortunes at the expense of the new United States. Many also who were sincere in their admiration of the struggle for liberty had come to offer Congress their services, and taverns and inns were filled to overflowing with strangers of distinction and otherwise. Militia drilled; troops marched and countermarched; while many British officers, prisoners on parole, paraded the streets, adding a bright bit of color with their scarlet coats.

Mother and daughter pa.s.sed slowly below High Street and continued down Second. Past shops they went, and the City Tavern, crowded about with sedan chairs and chaises; past the Loxley House, in which lived that Lydia Darrach who had stolen out of the city the winter before to warn the patriots of a contemplated attack by the British; past the dwelling of the Cadwaladers; past also the great house built and formerly owned by the s.h.i.+ppens; and on past other mansions with their gardens until finally they paused involuntarily as the sound of singing came to them.

The sounds were wafted from the old Swedish church of Gloria Dei, and the two stood in silence until the singing ceased.

"Friends believe not in hymns or singing," remarked Mrs. Owen as they turned to retrace their steps. "But there is something about the intoning of the psalms that calms the mind. It has ever brought comfort to me."

"Mother," spoke Peggy shyly.

"Yes, my daughter."

"The one thing that I have always minded about the Friends is that very lack of music. When I see other girls play the spinet I too would like dearly to play upon it. I have always loved music, mother."

"I know thee has, Peggy. That is the reason that I have not chided thee when I heard thee singing the ballads and songs of the world's people.

Perhaps some time we may see our way to thy learning the spinet. If it is right thee will be led to it."

"I know," answered Peggy. And then, after a moment-"What troubled thee, mother?"

"Vanities, child. 'Twas the dressing, and the pomade, and the powder discovered in the meeting. I have never seen so much before. And also, I shame to confess it, Peggy, thy garb troubled me."

"Mine, mother?" Peggy looked up in amazement, and then glanced down at her girlish frock of chintz. "Why, mother?"

"In the first enthusiasm of the war," said Mrs. Owen, "thee remembers how we, thou and I, together with many patriotic women and girls, banded together in an a.s.sociation formed against the use of foreign goods. We pledged ourselves to wear homespun rather than buy any of the foreign calicoes and silks. Before the Declaration every patriotic woman was known by her clothes, and it so continued until we left the city at the coming of the British. Of course, now that the line of separation hath been drawn between Britain and her colonies, there no longer exists the same patriotic reason for such abstinence; but we seem to be the last to come to such knowledge."

"Mother, I never knew thee to be concerned anent such things before,"

said the girl quickly.