“This will never do,” she exclaimed, trying to shake off the feeling. “I must keep awake.” But try as she would her eyelids grew heavier until finally she sought Harriet in the drawingroom. “Harriet,” she said, “will thee serve the dinner? I am so sleepy from the drive that I must lie down a few moments. I know right well that I should not give up, but——” “Nonsense,” cried Harriet crossly; “go lie down an you will, Peggy. One would think to hear you talk that dinner could not be served without you. ’Tis provoking the airs you give yourself! I dare say you will not be missed.” “Thank thee, Harriet,” answered Peggy. “Thee will not find it irksome. ’Tis about ready.” The tired girl slipped down to the now empty drawing-room. “I fear me I must hide if I want a minute to myself,” she thought, gazing about the large room in search of a safe retreat. “And I must have my wits about me to help John. If I can but close my eyes for a moment, just a moment, I will be in proper trim.” Presently she spied the large easy chair much affected by Colonel Owen, and she ran toward it with an exclamation of delight. “’Tis the very thing!” she cried, drawing it to the most remote corner of the room, and turning it about so that it faced the wall. “Now let them find me if they can.” And so saying she ensconced herself in its capacious recesses, and almost instantly fell asleep. “And you think the plan will not miscarry?” came the voice of the commander-in-chief of the British forces in America. Peggy awoke with a start. Was she dreaming or did she in truth hear her cousin say: “There is not the least chance of it, Sir Henry. The rebel general hath his quarters full two miles from his main army, and owing to the cold and the snow no danger is apprehended; so his guards are trifling. We can easily slip upon him and be away with him before mishap can befall us. Once we have possession of his person the whole rebellion falls to the ground. It all depends upon him.” “True,” was the reply in musing tones. “Well, colonel, I have placed the flower of the army at your disposal. But let this alert[[3]] succeed and it shall be brought to His Majesty’s notice that ’tis you alone to whom honor is due. ’Tis my hope that ’twill not fail.” “It cannot,” replied Colonel Owen in eager tones. “We leave at nightfall by way of Newark. Just beyond Newark on the Morris turnpike lives one Amos Henderson, who is favorable to us, and much laments this broil against the king. He it is who will have a guide ready to take us to the heights of Morristown. In twenty-four hours, sir, I will bring the rebel general in person to your quarters.“ “I see not how it can fail,” remarked Sir Henry. “The utmost secrecy hath been maintained concerning the matter. But did you not say that dinner was served? That, sir, is a function with which nothing short of a rebel attack should interfere. The plan of the new works, which Montressor says you have, can be discussed afterward.”