“No, my child. Thou wilt not have opportunity,” observed Mr. Owen. “Does thee not know that once being with us there can be no returning to New York? There can be no passing and repassing to the city.” “Oh,” she cried in dismay. “I did not know. Can I not return if I should wish to?” “Not unless thou hadst been away from the army for a long time,” he answered. “But suppose, suppose father should come?” “Even then thee would have to stay with us until such time that it was deemed advisable for thee to return. So thee sees, Harriet, that the rebels, as thee calls them, will have the pleasure of thy company for some time to come.” “I see,” she said. Presently she threw her head back and gave way to a peal of musical laughter. “There is but one thing to do, Cousin David,” she cried. “And that is to become a patriot myself.” CHAPTER XVI—THE TWO WARNINGS “Though your prognostics run too fast, They must be verified at last.” —Swift. “And here is some one to see thee, Peggy,” said Mrs. Owen a week later, coming into the little chamber under the eaves which the two maidens occupied in common. “Bring thy cousin and come down.” “Is it John, mother?” asked Peggy, letting her tambour frame fall to the floor. “I wondered why we did not see him.” “Yes, ’tis John, Peggy, though he is called Ensign Drayton here. Perhaps ’twould be as well for us to term him so, too.” “Come, Harriet,” called Peggy rising. “Let us run down. ’Tis our first caller.” “And being a soldier let us prepare for him,” said the English girl, reaching for a box. “What would we females be without powder? ’Tis as necessary to us as to a soldier, for ’tis as priming to our looks as ’tis to a gun. There! will I do, Peggy?” “Thee is beautiful, my cousin,” replied Peggy with warm admiration. “Thee does not need powder nor anything else to set off thy looks.” “Oh, well,” laughed the maiden, plainly gratified by her cousin’s remark, “’tis as well to be in the mode when one can. And I wish to do you honor, my cousin.” “Oh, John,” cried Peggy as she entered the parlor, where young Drayton stood twirling his cocked beaver airily. “That I should live to see thee wearing the white cockade of the Parley-voos on thy hat. What hath happened?” “The most wonderful thing in the world, Mistress Peggy,” answered Drayton reddening slightly at her raillery. “General Washington hath said that if my behavior warranted it he would put me with the Marquis de La Fayette’s brigade upon his return from France. As ’tis to be a picked corps of men ’tis most gratifying to one’s vanity to be so chosen. And in compliment to my prospective commander I am wearing the white cockade with our own black.” “I am so glad,” exclaimed Peggy. “Thee is making us proud of thee. Father said that there was no soldier more faithful to duty than thou. This is my cousin from England, John. Mistress Harriet Owen, Ensign Drayton.”