"When my girls start on a journey I give them three mile-stones to get over weeping. Susannah usually sniffs for two more before she begins to laugh. I am wondering how many will do for you girls?" "We are going to cheer up right now, aren't we, Peggy?" spoke Sally wiping her eyes. "We are indeed," answered Peggy resolutely. "Now that's sensible," he commended warmly. "See that orchard over there. How beautiful it is! So full of bloom. There is nothing to my mind prettier than blossoming trees. Indeed, I am fond of trees of all kinds." And so he talked, kindly directing their attention to anything of interest by the wayside, until soon both girls were chatting with more animation than they had known for weeks. They reached Trenton that evening, and stayed with the governor's family that night. A stage-coach and wagon ran between Princeton and Philadelphia by way of Trenton and Bristol three times a week. It happened that the next morning was one for the tri-weekly trip, and the girls insisted upon taking the coach. It would mean another day of hard riding, but they were anxious to get home. "And we will have all the rest of our lives to rest up in," declared Sally. "For I don't believe that anything will ever tempt me to leave Philadelphia again. Peggy, did thee feel like this when coming back from thy other flittings?" "Yes, Sally. It hath always proved hard to get back because of the enemy. I think it always will until we have peace. I don't want to leave home again either." "If ever we get there," said Sally looking fearfully out of the coach window. "Peggy, when the governor's family insisted that it would make too hard a journey to take the stage to-day, I just felt that if we didn't come something would happen to the coach so that we couldn't." "I am glad we didn't wait, though it does seem as though the stage goes very slowly. It fairly crawls." Sally laughed. "I dare say any vehicle would seem to crawl to us, Peggy. But we are going home, home. Oh, I could just shout, I am so glad." It was late that evening when the stage drew up before the Indian Queen in Fourth Street. Leaving their portmanteaus to be called for, the girls fairly ran down the street, turning presently into Chestnut Street. "Is thee afraid, Sally?" asked Peggy pausing before her home. "If thee is, mother and I will see thee home." "Afraid in Philadelphia?" cried Sally. "Why, there are neither raiders nor pine robbers here. No; go right in, Peggy. I'm going on to mother. I will see thee to-morrow." She was off as she spoke, and Peggy mounted the steps, and sounded the knocker. Her mother gave a faint cry as she opened the door. "My daughter!" she cried. "Oh, Peggy, Peggy! I have feared for thee."