“Don’t scold him, Robert,” pleaded Peggy. “The ride hath been a long one from the farm. I wonder not that he is tired. Why,” closing her bright eyes in a vain attempt to look drowsy, “I could almost go to sleep myself.” “You spoil that darkey,” remonstrated the youth as Tom, knowing that his case was won, climbed to his place in the chaise. “Let me look at that saddle, Peggy. If it is all right we must start at once, else ’twill be night ere we reach the city. Ah! ’tis well done,” he added with approval, after an inspection of the band. “Our deserter, if such he be, understands such things. Come, Peggy!” He adjusted the saddle, assisted the maiden to it, then mounting his own horse gave the command, and the journey was resumed. CHAPTER II—THE HOME-COMING “Such is the patriot’s boast, where’er we roam, His first, best country, ever is at home.” —Goldsmith. The bells of Christ Church were pealing out the joyous chime “Market-day to-morrow!” as the girl and Robert Dale, followed immediately by the chaise and more remotely by the wagons, cantered into Front Street. It was Tuesday evening, or in Quaker parlance, Third Day, and the streets were full of stir and bustle incident to the preparation for next day’s market. “Oh!” cried Peggy drawing a deep breath. “How good it is to be home once more! How musical sounds the rattling of even the carriages!” “Very harsh music, methinks,” smiled the youth. “But preferable to the croaking frogs and screeching owls of farm life,” said the girl quickly. “If thee had been away for a year I make no doubt but that thee would be as glad to return to this dear city as I am.” “I make no doubt of it too,” he agreed. “Just think,” went on Peggy. “I have not seen either Sally or Betty since the Fourth of July. Had it not been for thee I would know naught of what hath occurred since then. Thou hast been very kind to us, Robert.” “It hath been a pleasure,” returned he gravely. “I think you cannot know what a relief it is to get away from the incessant round of gaiety with which the city seems beset. I weary of it, and long to be in the field.” “I hope that thee will not go just as we have returned to town,” remarked the maiden. “Mother and I will welcome the chance to return some of thy favors.” “Don’t, Peggy,” exclaimed the lad coloring. “I like not for you to speak of requiting favors as though you and your mother owed aught to me. It hath been a pleasure, as I have said.” “Thee is too modest, Robert. None the less we owe thee much, even though thee does try to deny it. How, sir, could we have come to the city without thy escort? With father away thee knows that ’twould have been impossible for mother and me to have managed the wagons. And——But oh, Robert! Aren’t the shops opened yet? So many seemed to be closed.”