Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for GirlsMadison, Lucy Foster
History
Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls
Madison, Lucy Foster
Philadelphia (Pa.) -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
“Thank you,” he returned, his pleasure at her naive admiration being
very apparent. Already there had been detractions whispered against his
administration of the city, and the genuine appreciation of this little
maid for his military exploits was soothing to him. “I know not how our
talk hath become so serious,” he said, “but I am a poor host to permit
it. ’Tis not befitting a scene of pleasure. Wilt take tea with me, Miss
Peggy?”
Peggy looked up quickly, thinking she had not heard aright. What! she, a
simple young girl, to be taken to tea by so great a general! Mr. Arnold
stood courteously awaiting her assent, and realizing that he had indeed
bestowed the honor upon her, she arose, swept a profound curtsey, and
murmured an almost inaudible acceptance.
There were little gasps of surprise from Sally and Betty, as she swept
by them, but pride had succeeded to Peggy’s confusion, and she did not
turn her head. Assured that never again would she be filled with such
felicity Peggy held her head high, and walked proudly down the great
drawing-room by Benedict Arnold’s side.
’Twas customary in Philadelphia for the mistress of a household to
disperse tea to guests, but the general having no wife pressed his
military attachés into this duty. So overwhelmed was Peggy with the
honor conferred upon her that she did not notice that her cup was filled
again and again by the obliging servitor. She was recalled to herself,
however, by an audible aside from Sally:
“And hath thy general plenty of Bohea in the house, Robert? ’Tis to be
hoped so, else there will be none for the rest of us. That is Peggy’s
sixth cup, is it not?”
“Oh, dear!” gasped Peggy flushing scarlet, and hastily placing her spoon
across the top of her cup, for this was the proper mode of procedure
when one had been served sufficiently. “I did not know, I did not
think—in fact, the tea was most excellent, and did beguile me. Nay,” she
broke off looking at him bravely. “’Twas because I was so beset with
pride to think that it was thou who served me that I forgot my manners.
In truth, the incident is so notable that I shall never forget it.”
“Now, by my life, you should drink all there is for that speech though
no one else were served,” declared he laughing. “What! No more? Then we
will see to ’t that your friend hath cause for no further complaint. Do
you read, Miss Peggy?”
From a small spindle-legged table that stood near, he selected a book
from several which lay on its polished surface, and handed it to her.
“Pleasure me by accepting this,” he said. “’Tis Brooke’s ‘Lady Juliet
Grenville.’ Most young ladies like it, and it hath more endurance than a
cup of tea.”
“Oh, thank thee! Thank thee!” cried she delightedly. “I have heard much
of the tale, and have longed to read it. I shall truly treasure it.”
“Would that my name were Margaret,” cried Sally as General Arnold left
her with her friends. “And what did thee do to merit all this honor,
Miss Peggy?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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