“I know, mother,” answered the girl soberly. “Last night I was carried away by the enjoyment of it all, and methought I would like naught else than teas, and routs and parties all the time. Didst think thy daughter could be so foolish?” “’Twas very plain to be seen, my child,” said the lady with a smile. “And with thy father and others in the field it seems to me that thou and I may be employed to better purpose, Peggy? What does thee say? Shall we give up assemblies, tea drinkings and finery to patriotism, or wouldst thou rather——” “Mother, thee knows that when ’tis a choice between such things and the country they must go,” cried Peggy warmly. “I knew that I could count on thy cooperation,” observed Mrs. Owen quietly. “Thou shalt have thy young friends, Peggy, and shall share their pleasures, but we will have no more of public parade and ostentation. I like it not. ’Tis not befitting the wives and daughters of soldiers to indulge in such pastimes. And we shall be busy, Peggy. We must spin and weave.” “I do not mind the work, mother. Sally is to be a nurse, and I would not be happy could I not do something too.” And so the spinning-wheel was brought from the attic, and given a prominent place in the living-room. The loom was set up in the large kitchen, and from early morn until eight at night the girl spent the long hours of the day spinning and weaving. Other Whig women also, dismayed by the spirit of frivolity and extravagance that was rife in the city, followed their example, and the hum of the wheel and burr of the loom were heard in every household. “Thou hast been spinning since five of the clock this morning, Peggy,” remonstrated Mrs. Owen one afternoon. “Is thee not tired? How many skeins hast thou spun to-day?” “I have lost count, mother,” laughed Peggy. “It behooves me to be thrifty, else there will be no yarn to knit. And such heaps and heaps of unspun wool as there are! ’Tis no time to be weary.” “But thee must not overdo in the beginning. There is also much unhatcheled flax to be made into thread for cloth, and if thee is too wearied from the spinning of the wool thou wilt not be able to undertake it. So stop now, and take a run through the garden.” “Just as soon as I finish this skein, mother.” Peggy’s light foot on the treadle went swifter and swifter, and for a time no sound was heard in the living-room save the hum of the wheel. Presently the spindle uttered an angry snarl, and the thread snapped short in her fingers. “There!” she cried merrily, unraveling the knot dexterously. “Had I but heeded thy advice, mother, this mishap would not have occurred. The moral is that a maid should always obey her mother. I tried to outdo my stint of yesterday, and by so doing have come to grief. Now if thee will hold the skeins I will wind the yarn of to-day’s spinning ready for knitting.”