Harriet plunged at once into the gaiety of the city with all the abandon of her nature, and Peggy, much against her inclination, was of necessity compelled to enter into it also. There were rides every clear day which revealed the strong defenses of the city. New York was in truth but a fortified camp. A first line of defense extended from the heights of Corlear’s Hook across the island to the Hudson. There was still another line further up near the narrow neck of land below Fort Washington, while a strong garrison guarded the outlying post of Kingsbridge. Peggy soon realized that unless she was given wings she could never hope to pass the sentinels. Every afternoon in the Grand Battery along the bay a German band of hautboys played for the amusement of the officers and townspeople, and here Peggy met many of the young “macaroni” officers or feminine “toasts” of the city. She grew weary of the incessant round of entertainments. There had been much social intercourse at the camp, but it had been tempered by sobriety, and life was not wholly given up to it. Peggy resolved that she would have to occupy herself in other ways. “Cousin William,” she said one morning, seeking Colonel Owen in his study, where he sat looking over some papers with a frowning brow, “may I talk with thee a little?” “Is it anent the matter of home?” he queried. “I can do nothing, Peggy. You will have to stay here. We can’t have a rebel come into our lines and then leave, you know.” “I know,” she answered sorrowfully. “I want to go home, but ’twas not of that I came to speak.” “Of what then?” he asked. “Thee lives so well,” she said with a blush at her temerity, “and yet, sir, there is so much waste. Thee could live just as well yet there need be no excess. I wish, Cousin William, that thee would let me look after the household while I am here. I care naught for the pleasurings, and ’twould occupy me until such time as thee would let me go home,” she added a trifle wistfully. “I could not do so well as mother, but yet I do feel that I could manage more thriftily than thy servants.” “Peggy,” he cried springing to his feet, “I hoped for this. You owe me a great deal, and ’tis as well to begin to pay some of your debt. That is why I brought you here.” “I owe thee anything?” she asked amazed. “How can that be?” “Think you that I have forgotten the time spent in your house, my little cousin? Think you that I, an officer in His Majesty’s service, do not resent that I was given in exchange for a dragoon?” “If thee thinks that I owe thee anything, my cousin, I will be glad to pay it,” said Peggy regarding him with wondering, innocent eyes. “I am sorry thee holds aught against me.” Colonel Owen had the grace to blush.