“Now by my life, David,” cried William Livingston, the great war governor of New Jersey, as the maidens were presented. “Now by my life, these girls take not after you, else they would not be such beauties. They must meet with my daughters. I had three,” he said turning to Peggy. “The Livingston Graces, some called them, but one grew tired of being a nymph and so became a bird. Nay; be not alarmed,” he added as a puzzled look flashed across Peggy’s face, “she but married John Jay. ’Tis a joke of mine. And this is the cousin from across the sea who bids fair to become our more than sympathizer? Wilt pardon me if I say that were I British I’d never relinquished to the rebels so fair a compatriot?” “Perchance, sir,” replied Harriet, sweeping him an elaborate curtsey, and assuming the gracious manner which was one of her charms, “perchance if you were on the other side I would not wish to be relinquished.” “That is apt,” he responded with a hearty laugh. “What think you, David? Are not the honors evenly divided betwixt this young lady and myself? I must be wary in my speech.” “And are you at Liberty Hall this winter?” she asked him presently. “Yes; thanks to Maxwell’s brigade, I am permitted this enjoyment. Were he not stationed at Elizabethtown, however, I could not be with my dear ones. ’Tis the first time in three years that I have had the privilege. Hath General Washington returned from Philadelphia, David?” “He hath been back for some time,” answered Mr. Owen. “Since the first of the month, in fact. ’Twas dull here without him.” “I like him better than any other one of your people whom I have met, my cousin,” declared Harriet after the governor had taken his departure. “I have heard much of Liberty Hall, Cousin David. I am curious anent it. Where is it?” “’Tis a mile northwest of Elizabethtown, Harriet,” answered he. “A wonderful place it is. The governor hath sent abroad and obtained hundreds of trees to adorn the grounds. ’Tis his lament, however, that he will not live to see them grown. He is a wonderful man also. ’Tis no marvel that thee is pleased with him. His daughters are most charming, and will be agreeable acquaintances for thee and Peggy. We will go there soon.” “But tell me how to get to the Hall, please,” she teased. “I want to know exactly.” “Exactly,” he laughed. “Well, well, Harriet, I will do my best; though why thee should want to know exactly is beyond me.” “’Tis fancy,” she said laughing also. “And thee always indulges my fancies, Cousin David. Doesn’t thee now?” “Whenever thee uses that speech, my child, I cannot resist thee,” he answered. And forthwith sat down by the table and drew for her a map showing just where the road to Liberty Hall turned from the Morris turnpike. “Drayton and I are both on duty to-day,” announced Mr. Owen the next morning. “If you ride, lassies, it must be without escort, unless I can find some one to go with you.”