Peggy Owen Patriot Part 32

"Oh, take it, by all means," replied Harriet. "I wouldn't go out in this weather for a dozen Sir Henrys. La, la! 'tis cold!" She s.h.i.+vered in spite of the great fire. "What doth father wish to see Sir Henry alone for?" she asked abruptly. "He told me but now that he did not desire my company after dinner. And I had learned a new piece on the harpsichord, too," she ended pettishly.

"I know not, Harriet," said Peggy instantly troubled. She did not doubt but that it had something to do with the movement against General Was.h.i.+ngton, but she did not utter her suspicion. "Mayhap 'tis business of moment."

"Oh, yes; I dare say," retorted Harriet. She yawned, and left the room.

Peggy gave the necessary orders for the dinner and then quietly arrayed herself for the marketing. She was allowed a certain freedom of movement, and went into the city about business of the household without question. With scrupulous conscientiousness she attended to the marketing first, and then bidding the coachman wait for her, went rapidly to Little Queen Street on foot.

She had met with but few Quakers. They were regarded as neutrals, but Colonel Owen disliked them as a sect and had forbidden her to hold communication with them. Still Peggy knew where many of them lived, and among these was Rachel Kenton. It was a quaint Dutch house, easily found. New York was not so large as Philadelphia at this time, and Peggy hastened up the stoop with eagerness, her heart beating with delight at the prospect of at last hearing from her dear ones.

A pleasant-faced, sweet-mannered woman responded to her knock, and ushered her at once into a room just off the sitting-room, where Drayton sat awaiting her. She ran to him with outstretched hands.

"Now I can tell thee how glad I am to see thee," she cried. "And oh, John, do tell me of my mother! And father! How are they?"

"Both are well," he answered, "but they have grieved over your going away. Why did you leave camp, Peggy?"

"'Twas because of Harriet," she told him. "She was a spy, John. They would have hanged her had they found out that it was she who wrote that note. And oh, what did General Was.h.i.+ngton say when he found me gone? It hath been so long since then, and never a word could I hear."

"Well, he was pretty much cut up over it, and so were we all. Your mother thought that Harriet must be at the bottom of the matter, and so did I. Her boxes were searched, and some notes found that proved she was a spy. Then, too, we made that fellow confess to everything he knew. You remember him, Peggy? He accused you."

"Yes," answered Peggy. "I remember, John. I can never forget how I felt when he accused me of being the girl who gave him that letter. And it wasn't the same one at all."

"We got at the whole affair right well," continued Drayton. "What we could not understand was the fact that you came on to New York with your cousin. Why did you?"

"I couldn't help it," she said. "They brought me by force. I begged to go back, but they wouldn't let me." Hereupon she told him the whole story, ending with: "And Cousin William says that he had a score to settle with me-and that was the reason he wanted me to come. John, thee will tell the general that I could not help coming?"

"Yes," he said, with difficulty restraining his indignation. "Peggy, Harriet would not have been hanged. They might have sent her out of the lines, or even made her a prisoner, but they would not have hanged her.

Not but what she would have deserved it just as much as that poor fellow who was hanged agreeable to his sentence, but being a girl would have saved her."

"But thee said that it went hard with spies, whether they were men, women, or girls even," objected she. "And General Was.h.i.+ngton used almost the same words."

"And so it does," he replied, "but there are other punishments than hanging. Never mind that now, Peggy. Let us plan to get away. I must take the ox cart back into Jersey this afternoon. I have a pa.s.s for one only, but I am to take back salt, coffee and flour. There is an empty sack, and if you will hide within it we may be able to pa.s.s you as merchandise. Will you try it, Peggy?"

"I will do anything," she declared excitedly. "It hath been so long! So long, John, since I have seen mother that I am willing to attempt anything."

"Wrap up well," he advised her. "'Tis terrible weather, and be somewhere among the trees as I come past the house. It will be about half-past four, as it grows dark then, and the bags will not be so sharply scrutinized. Once the cart is home we will have to run our chances of getting to Morristown."

"John," she cried as a sudden thought came to her, "there is some movement on foot against the general. I did not think to tell thee before. I know not what it is."

Drayton looked up quickly.

"I wish we knew what it was," he said. "There have been signs of an action on the part of the British, but we have been unable to obtain an inkling of what it could be. I would like right well to know."

"And so would I," said she.

"Go now," he said rising. "You must not let them suspect there is anything afoot, Peggy. I will move about in the city and see what I can find out. Be sure to wrap up."

"I will," she told him. "I hate to let thee go."

"'Tis only for a little while," he answered. "'Twill be a hard journey for you, Peggy, but your mother is at the end of it."

"Yes, yes," she cried. "Mother is at the end."

Unable to speak further she turned and left him. The day was extremely cold, and as she entered the house after the drive, and felt the warmth of the fire, she became aware of a delicious drowsiness that was stealing over her.

"This will never do," she exclaimed, trying to shake off the feeling. "I must keep awake." But try as she would her eyelids grew heavier until finally she sought Harriet in the drawingroom.

"Harriet," she said, "will thee serve the dinner? I am so sleepy from the drive that I must lie down a few moments. I know right well that I should not give up, but--"

"Nonsense," cried Harriet crossly; "go lie down an you will, Peggy. One would think to hear you talk that dinner could not be served without you. 'Tis provoking the airs you give yourself! I dare say you will not be missed."

"Thank thee, Harriet," answered Peggy. "Thee will not find it irksome.

'Tis about ready." The tired girl slipped down to the now empty drawing-room.

"I fear me I must hide if I want a minute to myself," she thought, gazing about the large room in search of a safe retreat. "And I must have my wits about me to help John. If I can but close my eyes for a moment, just a moment, I will be in proper trim." Presently she spied the large easy chair much affected by Colonel Owen, and she ran toward it with an exclamation of delight.

"'Tis the very thing!" she cried, drawing it to the most remote corner of the room, and turning it about so that it faced the wall. "Now let them find me if they can." And so saying she ensconced herself in its capacious recesses, and almost instantly fell asleep.

"And you think the plan will not miscarry?" came the voice of the commander-in-chief of the British forces in America.

Peggy awoke with a start. Was she dreaming or did she in truth hear her cousin say:

"There is not the least chance of it, Sir Henry. The rebel general hath his quarters full two miles from his main army, and owing to the cold and the snow no danger is apprehended; so his guards are trifling. We can easily slip upon him and be away with him before mishap can befall us. Once we have possession of his person the whole rebellion falls to the ground. It all depends upon him."

"True," was the reply in musing tones. "Well, colonel, I have placed the flower of the army at your disposal. But let this alert[[3]] succeed and it shall be brought to His Majesty's notice that 'tis you alone to whom honor is due. 'Tis my hope that 'twill not fail."

"It cannot," replied Colonel Owen in eager tones. "We leave at nightfall by way of Newark. Just beyond Newark on the Morris turnpike lives one Amos Henderson, who is favorable to us, and much laments this broil against the king. He it is who will have a guide ready to take us to the heights of Morristown. In twenty-four hours, sir, I will bring the rebel general in person to your quarters."

"I see not how it can fail," remarked Sir Henry. "The utmost secrecy hath been maintained concerning the matter. But did you not say that dinner was served? That, sir, is a function with which nothing short of a rebel attack should interfere. The plan of the new works, which Montressor says you have, can be discussed afterward."

"Come, then," said the colonel.

Peggy slipped from the chair and running up-stairs quickly to her own room, sat down to think.

"I must not go with John," was her decision. "He must get to the general without delay. They said 'twould end the war if he were taken. And it would. It would! I wonder what the time is?"

It was but half-past two, and it seemed to the anxious girl as though four o'clock, which was the time for Drayton's appearance, would never come. But at last she heard the clock in the hall chime out the hour, and Peggy arose, wrapped herself warmly, and left the house quietly. The snow was still falling. The numerous trees on the wide-spreading lawn, as well as the huge snow-drifts, effectually hid the road from view of the mansion.

Peggy had scarcely taken her position near a bare thicket when she heard the crunch of wheels over the snow, and soon the ox cart appeared down the road. Drayton was whistling, and to all appearance was the countryman he seemed. Peggy awaited him with impatience.

"John," she cried as the lad drew up opposite her, "John, there is an alert planned to take General Was.h.i.+ngton. Cousin William starts at nightfall for Morristown with a force to accomplish it."

"What?" exclaimed he. Peggy repeated her statement, and then quickly told him the entire affair.

"And thee must lose no time," she said. "Go right on, John, quickly."

"And you, Peggy?" he cried. "Jump in and let us take the risk of getting through together."

"No," she said. "Thee must stop for nothing. 'Twould hinder thee in getting to the general. Now go, John. 'Twill not be long ere the troops gather here."