“Yes; it is finished,” answered the other with a sigh of weariness. “I have just put the last stitch in it, and I’ll do no more. Heigh-ho! to think of Harriet Owen, daughter of William Owen, a colonel of the Welsh Fusileers, and a most loyal subject of His Majesty, making a shirt for one of the rebels. What would father think of it, I wonder?” “I think that he would rather have thee so engaged than to have thee give up to thy fancies, Harriet,” answered Peggy as her cousin drew the garment from among the pillows of the settle, and held it up to view. “Did thee put thy name on it? Mistress Reed wishes every woman and girl who makes one to embroider her name on it.” “’Tis athwart the shoulders,” said Harriet, handing the shirt to Peggy, a little sparkle coming into her eyes. Wonderful eyes they were: gray in color, surrounded by lashes of intense black, and dazzling in their brilliancy. “Well, Peggy?” “Oh, Harriet,” gasped the Quaker maiden, a look of vexation flashing across her face. “What will Mistress Reed say?” For across the shoulders of the garment was embroidered in red letters: “Harriet Owen—A loyal subject of the king.” “What will she say?” repeated Peggy in dismay. “Well, I am a loyal subject of the king, am I not? Doth being in Philadelphia instead of London or New York make me otherwise? Doth even making a rebel shirt change me?” “N-no,” answered Peggy. “I do not wish thee to change, Harriet; only it doth not seem quite, quite—— In truth, as thee is just among us to get well it doth not——” She paused hardly knowing how to continue. “’Tis naught to trouble over, my daughter,” spoke her mother serenely. “’Twill wear just as long and keep some soldier just as warm as though it were not there. I doubt not that it will cause some amusement in camp, and what is’t but a girlish piece of mischief, after all? I am pleased to see a spark of thy former spirit, Harriet. Thee is growing better.” “Thank you, madam my cousin. And I will make no more, if it please you. I find the stitching wearisome, and the object not much to my liking.” “Then it were better for thee to make no more,” declared the lady. “Though ’tis not well to lie on the settle and do naught but read. I think with Peggy that to go out will do thee good. Therefore, after dinner thou must go with her to take the shirts that are finished to Mistress Reed. Then a walk to the river, or to Pegg’s Run, where there is sure to be skating if the ice is strong enough, will do nicely for to-day. There are some fine skaters among us, and ’twill amuse thee to see them.” “I care more for assemblies and small dances than I do for sports,” declared Harriet. “Still, if you think best, I will go, madam my cousin. I get lonesome here. I am so far from my people, and from my country. New York was gayer when I was there. Do you not think so, Peggy? And yet ’tis not nearly so large as this city.”