Peggy Owen Patriot Part 5

"Perchance it hath been because we have not been dressed with singularity before," observed the lady. "I hold that every gentlewoman should be arrayed becomingly and with such due regard to the mode that her attire will not excite comment. Not that I wish thy thoughts altogether concerned about such matters. Thee knows how we have received warnings from good and wise men on the subject in our own meetings, but we must do credit to David. And," she added with a slight smile, "while we are still ready to sacrifice our lives even for the cause of liberty, we cannot steer clear of the whirlpool of fas.h.i.+on if we are to remain in the city. Was thee not sensible of the difference between thy garb and that of thy friends?"

"Yes," admitted the maiden candidly. "But I tried not to think about it.

I have been longing for some new frocks, but since Star hath been taken I have not cared so much."

"The city seems caught in a very vortex of luxury and extravagance,"

went on the matron. "I do not mean that we should be of those who care for naught but self-adornment and useless waste. Were it not for thee--"

She paused a moment and then continued: "Thou hast been very self-denying, my daughter, concerning this matter, and hast borne the filching of thy pony bravely. So then thou shalt have not only a frock for the general's tea, but another also. And a cloak, and a hat, together with a quilted petticoat."

"Mother, mother!" almost screamed Peggy. "Thee overwhelms me. Where will the money come from?"

"We have made a little from the harvests of the past summer, Peggy. Then the farm pays in other ways. Some of David's ventures have turned out well, despite the war and the fact that he is in the army. We shall have to be careful, my daughter, and not run into extravagance, but there is enough to furnish thee with a simple wardrobe."

"And thou?" questioned the girl.

"I shall do well as I am, dear child. And now let us turn our thoughts from this too worldly subject to others more befitting First Day.

To-morrow we will go to the mercer's for the things."

And so, despite the fact that nothing had as yet been heard of the stolen pony, it was a very happy maiden that set forth with her mother the next day for the shops in Second Street.

"Friend," said the lady to a mercer who came forward to wait upon them, "let us look at thy petticoats, calimanico; for," she said in an aside to Peggy, "'twill be the part of wisdom to purchase the homely articles first, lest we be carried beyond our intention for the frocks. We shall have to be careful, as the prices, no doubt, have become higher. How much is this, friend?"

"Fifteen pounds, fifteen s.h.i.+llings," answered he.

Mrs. Owen looked up in amazement, while Peggy, with less control, cried out:

"Such a price, and without quilting! Once it could have been bought for fifteen s.h.i.+llings."

"'Tis very likely," smiled the shopkeeper. "That must have been before the war. Prices are soaring on everything, and are like to go higher before falling."

Mrs. Owen laid down the garment gravely.

"A coat and a hat," she said. "What will be the cost of a very ordinary one of each?"

"They cannot be procured under two hundred pounds, madam."

"And gauze for caps?"

"The common grade is twenty-four dollars a yard. The better quality fifty dollars."

"Mother," whispered Peggy, "why need thee buy the petticoat? We can weave cloth for it, and I can quilt it myself."

"True, Peggy," a.s.sented her mother. "I think we can manage about the petticoat, but a frock thou must have. A frock and some gloves."

"Cloth for a frock, madam?" questioned the merchant eagerly. "Shall it be lutestring, poplin, brocade, or broadcloth? I have the best of England, madam."

But Mrs. Owen's face grew grave indeed as he mentioned prices. Peggy's eyes filled with tears. She saw her new frock vanis.h.i.+ng into thin air as fabric after fabric was brought forth only to be rejected when the cost was named. She knew that she had nothing to wear to the tea at headquarters unless a new gown was purchased, and she choked in her disappointment. Her mother saw her tears and turned to the merchant with determination.

"I will--" she opened her lips to say, when some one tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and a clear voice called:

"Why, Madam Owen, are you buying gowns? What extravagance! If farm life pays well enough to buy cloth these times I shall get me to a farmery at once. Mr. Bache wishes to go."

"Sally Franklin, how does thee do?" exclaimed Mrs. Owen, greeting the young matron warmly. "I came down intending to buy a great deal, but--"

"The prices! The prices!" cried Franklin's daughter, waving her hands.

"It takes a fortune to keep a family in a very plain way. And there never was so much dressing and pleasure going on! I wrote to father to send me a number of things from France, among them some long black pins, lace, and some feathers, thinking he could get such things much cheaper there."

"And did he?" eagerly questioned Peggy, who had now recovered herself.

"No; and I got well scolded for my extravagance," laughed Mrs. Bache.

"He sent the things he thought necessary, omitting the others. He advised me to wear cambric ruffles instead of lace, and to take care not to mend them. In time they would come to lace, he said. As for feathers, why send that which could be had from every c.o.c.k's tail in America."

"How like Dr. Franklin that is," remarked Mrs. Owen much amused. "What did thee answer?"

"That I had to be content with muslin caps in winter, and in summer I went without. As for cambric I had none to make lace of. Oh, we shall all come to linsey-woolsey, I fear. Dr. s.h.i.+ppen talks of moving his family from the city, and the rest of us will have to do the same."

She moved away. The shopkeeper turned to bring on more goods, hoping to tempt his customers, and Peggy took hold of her mother's hand gently.

"It will cut into thy resources greatly to get these things, won't it, mother?"

"Yes," a.s.sented the lady soberly. "For the frock alone I would have to pay as much as I had intended for thy entire outfit."

"Then thee must not do it," said Peggy gravely.

"There is one way that it can be done, my daughter," said her mother not looking at her. "If thou wilt consent to forego all charitable gifts this winter; if thou wilt let the soldiers or any other needy ones go without benefit from thee; then thou canst take the money for all thy things: the hat, the coat, the two frocks, the gloves, and all the other necessaries of which we spoke. Now, Peggy, I will not blame thee if thou dost choose according to thy wishes, for thou hast already given up much. It rests with thee."

Peggy looked at the dazzling array of fabrics spread temptingly upon the counter. She did want a new gown so badly. She needed it, she told herself quickly. She had given up a great deal. Must she give up in this too? For an instant she wavered, and then a vision of some of the soldiers that she had seen flashed across her mind, and she turned from the glittering array with a little sob.

"I could not, I could not," she cried. "And have nothing for the poor soldiers! It would be a sin! But oh, mother! do let us hurry away from here. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is so weak."

Pausing only for a word of courteous explanation to the mercer the lady followed the maiden from the store.

CHAPTER V-UP IN THE ATTIC

"Up in the attic where mother goes Is a trunk in a shadowed nook- A trunk-and its lid she will oft unclose, As if 'twere a precious book.

She kneels at its side on the attic boards, And tenderly, soft and slow, She counts all the treasures she fondly h.o.a.rds- The things of long ago."

-Anonymous.

"I fear we have made a mistake in returning to town," observed Mrs. Owen when at length they reached the dwelling after a silent walk home. "I had no idea things had become so dear. There is hardly such a thing as living in town, but David wished us to be here. In truth, with so many outlaws scouring the country, I feel that we are far safer than we would be on the farm. And yet what shall be done anent the matter of clothes?

Thou must have a frock for the tea party."

"I can wear my blue and white Persian," said the girl bravely. "Thee must not worry so over my frock, mother."

"Thy Persian was new three years since," objected her mother. "And thou hast grown, Peggy. Beside, 'tis faded. Stay! I have the very thing. Come with me, child."