“Thee has not been strong enough for much gayety,” reminded the lady gently. “As soon as the spring comes we will see about more diversion. There will be the rides, and many jaunts which the weather hath not permitted heretofore. But for to-day the walk must do. So be ready to go with Peggy as soon as the dinner is over.” “And may I read until then?” queried the girl wistfully. “The book is very enticing. I but laid it aside to finish the shirt.” “Yes; and Peggy may join thee, if she wishes,” said Mrs. Owen rising. “I like not for her to read idle tales, nor much verse when there is so much to be done, but the poem that thou art reading now is a noble one. I would like her to become familiar with it. I read it when a girl.” “What is it, Harriet?” questioned Peggy as her mother left the room. “’Tis ‘Paradise Lost,’ by Mr. John Milton,” answered her cousin, taking the book from a near-by table, and turning the leaves of the volume idly. “’Tis considered à la mode in London to be so familiar with it as to be able to quote passages from it on occasion. So long as I must stay in the colonies ’tis as well to prepare for my return.” “But thee cannot go back until the war is over,” Peggy reminded her. “Thee would not wish to go without thy father, would thee?” “Of course not. But the war is sure to be over soon now. Three of the Southern colonies are already restored to the Crown, and after Lord Cornwallis subjugates Virginia ’twill be an easy matter to move northward toward your main army. And where will your Mr. Washington be then—with Sir Henry Clinton attacking him from the front and Lord Cornwallis from the rear? Oh, it will soon be over!” “That is what thy people have said from the beginning,” remarked Peggy quietly. “And yet, in Fourth month, ’twill be six years since the battle of Lexington in Massachusetts was fought, and we are not conquered yet.” “But ’tis different now, Peggy. Your resources are drained. Even Cousin David, fervent patriot though he is, murmurs at the weakness of your central government. Part of your own soldiers mutinied last month. One of your best generals hath come over to us, and you have won but two victories in nearly three years—Paulus Hook and Stony Point. Oh, ’tis vastly different now. We shall see the end soon.” “Thee has forgotten King’s Mountain, which was a decided victory,” spoke Peggy. “And,” she added stoutly, “though I know that what thee says is largely true, Harriet, and that it doth indeed look dark for us, I feel sure that we will win eventually. Whenever it hath been the darkest some great event hath happened to raise our spirits so that we could go on. I just know that ’twill be the same now. Something will occur to give us hope.” “It may be,” observed Harriet carelessly, “though I see not how it can.”