There was nothing that could be said, so Peggy held her peace; but she thought deeply. She would tell her mother, she resolved, and they would see that no communication was had with the British that was not through the regular channels. But what a responsibility these English cousins were, she mused, and so musing sighed heavily. “Wherefore the sigh, cousin mine?” quizzed Harriet, bending low over her saddle to look into Peggy’s eyes. “Is it because you are afraid of what I shall do? Fie, for shame! ’Tis you who are beset by fancies now. Fear nothing, Peggy. I shall bring no further trouble upon you. Is that what you were worrying about?” “Yes,” confessed Peggy frankly. “It was, Harriet.” “Then think of it no more. Have I not said that no trouble shall come to you? And there shall not. But a truce to seriousness. ’Tis much too fine for worry. Is not that a robin redbreast, Peggy?” “Yes, Harriet. I have noticed several since we began our ride. ’Twill soon be spring. And it should be; for it is the first of Third month.” And so the topic of the letter was put aside for the time, and the maidens rode on through the trees chatting pleasantly. Suddenly the dull boom of a cannon smote their ears. “A battle! A battle!” cried Harriet excitedly as they drew rein to listen. “Oh, what if our people have attacked the city?” “Nay,” spoke Peggy. “’Tis more like that there is something to celebrate. Listen! Does thee not hear bells?” “I wonder what it can be?” exclaimed Harriet. “I hope that ’tis not another victory for the rebels.” “Let us hasten, Harriet. We can find out in no other way.” Peggy called to Tom, and they set forward at speed. The noise became a din as they entered the city. Cannon boomed from the shipping on the Delaware, and artillery thundered on the land. All the bells in the city were ringing. Hoarse shouts filled the air, and upon every side there were manifestations of joy. “Oh, what can it be?” exclaimed Peggy with some excitement. “I wish we knew.” A short, thick-set little man, of dark, swarthy complexion was just crossing Front Street toward one of the quays as she spoke. He turned as he heard the exclamation, and came toward them. “If you do not know, lassie, let me tell you,” he said with a deep obeisance. “’Tis a great day. A great day, and will go down in history as such. Know then that this morning the last state ratified the Articles of Confederation, and by that act the Union becomes perpetual.” “Have they done it at last?” cried she. “Why, it hath been debated and discussed so long that we feared ’twould never happen. I did not know ’twas to occur to-day.” “Nor did any of us,” returned he genially. “I fancy that it took even the Congress by surprise. ’Twas announced at noon, by a discharge of artillery, the signal agreed upon. I am going now to add my quota to the rejoicing by firing a _feu de joie_ from my ship yonder.”