“We must, my child. Thou hast had no new frocks since Lexington, and ’tis quite time for others.” “But neither hast thou, mother. Does thee not remember that we covenanted together that whatever we had to spend on clothes should be given for garments for the soldiers? Now if I have a new gown, thee must also.” “We will see, Peggy. But a gown thee must have. We will go to the mercer’s to-day; but stay! Did not Sally speak of coming for thee to go to see a tree of some sort? That will delay us for another day.” “How thee remembers, mother! She did, and ’tis nine of the clock now. If she is coming ’tis time she were here. Does thee not hear horses, mother? Perhaps that is she now.” She ran to the window just in time to see a party of youths and maidens draw rein before the door. Sally Evans dismounted and ran quickly into the dwelling. “Art ready, Peggy?” she cried. “We are going now to see the aloe tree.” “What aloe tree is it, Sally?” queried Peggy. “I have lived in Philadelphia all my life, yet never before did I ever hear of one.” “’Tis because it hath only of late become remarkable,” answered Sally. “Mr. Dunlap hath an account of it in the last ‘Packet.’ This is the only one in the whole state, and every one is going to see it.” “But I don’t understand, Sally. Why should every one go? How is it remarkable?” “Oh, Peggy! Peggy! That comes from staying on a farm and not reading the papers. Know then,” assuming a didactic tone, “that the morning after the arrival of the French Ambassador this tree shot forth its spire, which it never does but once in the course of its existence, and in some climates not less than a hundred years. This one has been planted about forty-five years in the neighborhood of this city, and heretofore has produced every year four leaves, but this spring early it spread forth thirteen. And the spire,” concluded Sally impressively, “is thirteen inches round, and hath grown thirteen feet in thirteen days.” “But that is marvelous!” exclaimed the amazed Peggy. “Is ’t not? ’Tis regarded as a wonderful omen anent the French alliance and the thirteen states. Now do get ready, Peggy. Have Tom to bring Star around at once. The others are waiting.” “Shall I wear a loo-mask or a vizard, mother?” questioned Peggy, giving an anxious glance at her reflection in the mirror. “The loo-mask, Peggy. ’Tis easier held in place. Not thy gray duffle riding frock, child. ’Tis o’er warm for that. Methinks that a safeguard petticoat over the gown that thee has on with a short camlet cloak will do nicely. I will tell Tom to bring Star around for thee.” “Sally, what does thee think? I am to have a new frock for General Arnold’s tea,” confided Peggy as her mother left the room. “I did not dream that we could spare money for furbelows, but mother insists that I shall have it.”