“’Tis most natural for us to miss her, my daughter. She hath been with us so long, and with thee especially that ’tis not to be wondered at that thee feels lost. Harriet hath many good qualities. She hath been left to follow her own impulses too much, but I hope that her association with thee hath been of benefit to her.” “With me, mother?” exclaimed Peggy flushing scarlet at this praise. “Thee should not say that. In truth, I don’t deserve it, mother. I was often vexed with her, and sometimes gave way to sharpness. I ofttimes went to my room to gain control of myself. I have a temper, mother, as thee must know.” “I do, my child; but I know too that thou art trying to get the mastery of it. Because thou didst so strive is the reason that I believe that companionship with thee will make Harriet better. She hath received impressions that cannot fail to be of advantage to her. I am hoping that Harriet will make a noble woman.” “I wonder,” said Peggy musingly, “why Clifford did not write to her? It would have saved all this trouble had he done so.” “Thee must remember that he said in his letter that he thought they were to stop for a time at Fredericksburg. They may not have done so, or he may have been taken elsewhere after a short stop. Mr. Reed says that there was no report of any such party at any of the taverns there.” “The parole will not be given now, will it, mother?” “I think Mr. Reed would exert himself further in the matter did we desire it, Peggy, but ’tis best to let it drop for the present. If there are whispers anent our having our cousins with us, ’twere best to let Harriet see to an exchange for the lad. If that could be obtained his whereabouts would have to be made known. For ourselves, we will live very quietly for a time. It may be as well that the boy did not come. Should he prove a lad of spirit, as I make no doubt he is, between him and Harriet they might have caused greater trouble than she did.” “Yes,” assented the girl thoughtfully. “’Tis as well as thou sayest, mother. Still, I have heard so much anent my cousin, Clifford, that I confess that I am somewhat curious about him. I think I should like to see him.” “I have wondered about him also, Peggy. Is he like William, I wonder, or doth he take after his mother? William could be agreeable at times, but one was sometimes cognizant only of his failings.” [Illustration: “I HAVE HEARD NOTHING”] Thus conversing the minutes passed quickly. The house was very still, and the monotonous quiet was broken only by the click of the needles. The tall clock in the hall had just announced the usual bedtime when there sounded three loud raps on the front door. “That was the knocker,” cried Peggy, starting up. “I wonder who it can be at this time of night?” “We shall soon see,” said her mother taking up a candle and proceeding to the hall. “Who is it?” she called cautiously. “’Tis I, Sally. Open quickly. I have news,” answered the clear voice of Sally Evans.