At this time there was no suspicion whispered against the patriotism of Benedict Arnold. Scarcely any soldier had done so much to sustain the liberties of his country, and tales of his prowess, his daring and courage were rife in the city. Upon being placed in charge of Philadelphia by the commander-in-chief, General Washington, he had taken possession of the mansion in High Street, once the home of Richard Penn, and recently occupied by Sir William Howe. It was regarded as one of the finest houses in the city, was built of brick, and stood on the southeast corner of Front and High Streets. Peggy and her mother knew that the affair was to be more than the ordinary tea, but they were scarcely prepared for the sumptuousness of the occasion. “Is it a ball, Robert?” whispered the girl as they stood for a moment in the crush about the door. “No,” answered the youth a frown contracting his brow. “’Tis elaborate enough for one, and that is truth, Peggy. But when one is given it seems to be the general’s purpose to outvie all that rumor hath spoken of the Mischianza. All his entertainments are given on a most magnificent scale; as though he were a man of unbounded wealth and high social position. I like it not.” Peggy opened her lips to reply, but before she could do so the way was cleared for them to approach the general. The girl looked with intense interest at the gallant soldier of whose prowess she had heard so much. He was a dark, well-made man, still young, not having reached the meridian of life; his face, bronzed and darkened by fatigue and exposure, indicated that he had seen the severest hardships of a soldier’s life. Unable to accept a command in the field because of the wounds received at Saratoga the preceding fall he had been made commandant of the city. He was still on crutches, being thin and worn from the effects of his hurt. Some of the stories of his great courage upon that occasion came to Peggy’s mind, and brought a glow of admiration to her eyes. She flushed rosily as he said in greeting: “I am pleased to welcome you, Mistress Peggy. A certain aide of mine hath talked of naught else but your return for a week past. You are to report him to me if he does not give you an enjoyable time. Ah, Dale! look to’t that you distinguish yourself in the matter.” “Are there none but Tories?” questioned Peggy, as General Arnold turned to greet other arrivals, and Mrs. Owen paused to converse with some acquaintances. “Well,” the lad hesitated a moment and then continued, “they seem remarkably fond of him, Peggy, and he of them. I would it were not so, but many of the staff have thought that they flocked to his entertainments in mischievous numbers.” “But are there no others?” asked the girl again, for on every side were Tories and Neutrals to such an extent that scarce a Whig was to be seen.