“Thee shall have all thee wants,” she assured him. “But oh, John! if they should find out who thee is! Thou art mad to venture into the city.” “If they will wait until I’ve eaten they may do their worst,” he replied with a touch of his old jauntiness. “No; I don’t mean that, for I’ve come to take you back with me. That is, if you want to go?” “I do, I do,” she told him almost in tears. “Then go right in,” he commanded. “Won’t your cousins suspect something if they see you talking like this to a countryman?” “They will think I am scolding thee,” she said with a tremulous little laugh. “And truly thee needs it, John. I never saw a cord of wood piled so crookedly before in my life.” “They’ll be glad to get wood in any shape if this weather keeps on, I’m thinking,” he made answer. “Now do go right in, Peggy. And don’t forget that stableman.” Peggy hastened within doors, sent the man to help with the wood, and then tried to regain her usual composure by preparing a meal for Drayton. “The poor lad,” was her mental comment a little later as she watched the young fellow stow away the food that was placed before him. “He eats as though he had had nothing all winter.” This was nearer truth than she dreamed. Had she but known the condition of the army at Morristown she would not have wondered at the boy’s voraciousness. She hovered about him, attending to his needs carefully, longing but not daring to ask the many questions that crowded to her lips. It would not do to risk conversation of any sort in the house. There were too many coming and going. As it was the servants gazed at her in surprise, curious as to her interest in a teamster. The meal finished, Drayton rose with a word of thanks, and crossed to the fire which blazed upon the kitchen hearth. Peggy felt a sudden apprehension as she heard Harriet’s step in the hall. What if she should enter the kitchen? Would Drayton be safe from the keen scrutiny of her sharp eyes? The lad himself seemed to feel no uneasiness, but hung over the roaring fire of hickory logs as though reluctant to leave its warmth. Making a pretense of replenishing the fire Peggy whispered: “Go, go! Harriet is coming.” Drayton roused himself with a start, drew his wrappings close about him, and, giving her a significant look, passed through the outside door just as Harriet entered the room from the passage. “Who was that, Peggy?” she asked sharply. “The man with the wood,” answered Peggy busied about the fire. “I gave him something to eat.” “Mercy, Peggy! Is it necessary to feed such riffraff? They are all a pack of rebels. No wonder father complains of expense.” Peggy’s cheeks flamed with indignation. “Would thee send any one away in such weather without first giving him food?” she demanded. “’Twould be inhuman!” “And I suppose thee wouldn’t treat a Britisher so,” mimicked Harriet who was plainly in a bad humor. “Did father tell you that Sir Henry Clinton was to dine here to-day?”