"Sometimes what one thinks is the leading of the inward light is but the old Adam that is within us tempting to strife," remarked Truelove provokingly. "I greatly fear 'tis so in thy case, Margaret. 'Tis easily seen that thou art of a froward and perverse nature. Come! sit by me, Margaret, while I read thy duty to thee. Thou art in need of a lesson." "Not from thee." Peggy's eyes were sparkling now, and she spoke with some heat. "Who art thou that 'tis thy duty to read me a lesson? Thou art a stranger, met but a moment since. I listen to no lesson from thee, Truelove Davis." "And there spoke the Owen temper," came from the other severely. Peggy turned toward her quickly. "What know thee of the Owen temper?" she asked in amazement. "Everything, Margaret. How hot and unruly it is. I well know how it doth refuse advice, howsoever well meant. Thee should be sweet and amiable, like me." "Like thee?" Puzzled, perplexed, and withal indignant, Peggy could not help retorting. "Will thee pardon me, Truelove, if I say that thy amiability lacks somewhat of sweetness?" "Nay; I will not pardon thee. Lack somewhat of sweetness indeed, Mistress Margaret Owen! Does thee think thee has all the sweetness in the family? Obstinate, perverse Peggy!" With a cry Peggy sprang toward her. "Thy face!" she cried. "Let me see thy face. 'Tis Harriet's voice, but Harriet----" "Is before you." The girl unclasped the mask and revealed the laughing, beautiful face of Harriet Owen. "Oh, Peggy! Peggy! for a Quakeress you did not show much meekness. So you would not take a lesson from a stranger, eh? You should have seen your face when I proposed it." "But how did thee come here, Harriet? And why did thee assume this dress?" "Come sit down, and I'll tell you all about it," said Harriet, giving her cousin a squeeze. "Don't be afraid, Peggy. I promise not to teach any lesson. I should not dare to. But oh!" she laughed gleefully. "I shall never forget how you looked. You'll be the death of me yet, little cousin." CHAPTER XIX THE TURN OF THE WHEEL "From every valley and hill there come The clamoring voices of fife and drum; And out in the fresh, cool morning air The soldiers are swarming everywhere." --_"Reveille," Michael O'Connor._ "But first, Harriet, do take off that bonnet, and let me see thee as thou art really; with thy hair about thy face. So." Peggy reached over and untied the bow as she spoke, then removed the prim little bonnet from her cousin's head. "How beautiful thee is," she commented gazing at the maiden with admiring eyes. "I think thee grows more so every time I see thee. That bonnet doth not become thee." Harriet shook back her chestnut ringlets, and laughed gaily. Her wonderful eyes, dancing with mirth, were starry in their radiance.