“Will you never be naught but a prim little Quakeress?” cried Harriet shaking her. “Know then that I have wishes too, and friends there who are almost as close as kinspeople. Then, too, you would be relieved of me here. Just think how delightsome that would be,” she ended teasingly. “I am not thinking of us at all,” confessed truthful Peggy, “but of what is best for thee. I feel as though I were responsible to Cousin William for thee.” “Don’t you worry, mother mentor,” cried Harriet dancing about gleefully. “When Clifford comes your responsibility ceases. How he will laugh when he finds that I can no longer care for myself. I am going now to my room, little mother. If I stay longer than you think best call me.” “Thee is saucy,” was Peggy’s retort, as Harriet ran out of the room, pausing only long enough to make a mouth at her. But Harriet’s high spirits had vanished the next morning when she returned from her visit to Mr. Reed. “What think you?” she cried bursting in upon Peggy who was ironing in the kitchen. “Mr. Reed will see that the parole is given Clifford, but the exchange must wait until an American prisoner is found of equal rank with Clifford, who can be given for him. Isn’t it provoking!” “I should think thee could bear the delay patiently so long as thee will have thy brother with thee,” remarked Peggy quietly. “’Twould be far more vexatious if the parole could not be given.” “Why, of course, Peggy. Oh, well! I suppose that I must content myself. Thank fortune, I can at least write to Clifford. If he were not in the rebel lines even that would be denied me. I am going to write him now.” “Mr. Reed was much taken with Harriet,” observed Mrs. Owen, entering the kitchen as the English maiden left it. “But not more than thee appears to be, mother,” smiled Peggy. “’Tis amusing to see the difference with which thee regards her now, and the way it was at Middlebrook.” “She seems much improved,” answered her mother. “Does thee not think so? So much more thoughtful of others. It did not strike me that she was much given to consideration then; but now——” “But now thee has had her under thy wing for nearly three months; thee has nursed her back to health, and humored her every whim as though she were a child of thine until thee regards her as though she were thy very own. Thou dear mother!” The girl stopped her ironing long enough to kiss her mother tenderly. “Doesn’t thee know that whatever thee broods over thee loves?” Mrs. Owen laughed. “How well thee knows me, Peggy. But thou art fond of her too, art thou not?” “Yes, I am, mother,” admitted the girl. “Whenever we go anywhere I am proud of her beauty, and that she is my cousin. And my friends here are charmed with her. Even Sally and Betty—though she sometimes makes dreadful speeches because of being for the king. She can be so sweet, mother, that at times I must steel myself against her, lest I should be more tolerant of her opinions than is wise.”