“I have none, Mr. Owen,” declared General Washington. “As the young lady hath proved herself a relative I give her into your keeping. There could be no better sponsor for her, sir.” “I thank thee,” said David Owen gravely. “I will see that thy trust is not misplaced. And now, sir, we have troubled thee o’er long, I fear, and will therefore say good-night.” “But not until Mistress Owen tells me when she and Miss Peggy, together with this newly found kinswoman, will honor me by their presence to dinner. Will you have recovered from the fatigue of your journey by Monday, Madam Owen?” “Yes, Your Excellency. It will afford us great pleasure to dine with thee at that time,” replied the matron bowing. The courtesies of leave-taking over, David Owen led the way to the coach. “Take thy seat with us in the vehicle, my child,” he said to Harriet Owen. “I will have thy horse sent after us.” “And has thee a horse too?” asked Peggy as the girl took her place beside her. “Then we shall have some famous rides, Cousin Harriet. And what is thy horse’s name?” “Fleetwood. I brought him from England. He hath been mine from a colt. I have never had any other, and he will suffer none to ride him but me.” “Thee thinks of him as I do of Star,” cried Peggy in delight. “Didst say, my child,” interposed David Owen after the two maidens had chatted a while, “that thy brother left thee alone in England?” “Yes, Cousin David. Clifford hath always been wild for the army, but father would not hear of his joining it. ’Twas lonesome after father left us, so I did not blame Clifford for leaving. A lad of mettle should not stop at home when His Majesty hath need of him to help put down this rebellion. Your pardon, cousin. Being English I am all for the king, you know.” “Yes,” said Mr. Owen, pleased at her frankness. “I like thy manner of speaking of it, Harriet.” “But still, that need be no reason why we should not be friends,” she said quickly. “There be those at home who think with the colonies, and blame them not for rebelling. It may be that I too shall be of like opinion after my sojourn with you.” “It may be, Harriet. Have no uneasiness, my child. If thou art led to our way of thinking it must be of thine own conviction, and not from any effort that we shall bring to bear upon thee. Thou art welcome despite thy opinions. And didst thou cross the ocean alone?” “Yes; that is,” she added hastily, “there was an officer’s wife who was coming to join her husband. I was with her. When father learned that I had come, he desired that I should go to you. He was sure that you would welcome me despite the difference in politics. And why are you not in Philadelphia?”