Peggy was having a glorious moment of proud resistance, and did not deign to notice the spectator. The combatants stood facing each other in front of the huge fireplace, where there was a high heap of ashes and but faint glow of fire. The old woman’s voice was harsh, and she looked pale and desperate; there was always a black day for the household after such a masterpiece of a feast as Peggy had set before her master’s guests the night before. The fire of energy was low in her gaunt frame, except for a saving spark that still moved the engines of her tongue. She stood like a thin old Boadicea with arms akimbo, and Mary Hamilton faced her all abloom, with a face full of laughter, and in exactly the same attitude; it was a pleasing sight to Hamilton at the door of the side hall. The usually populous kitchen was deserted of all Peggy’s minions except Cæsar, and there were no signs of any preliminaries of even the latest supper. "Oh, Peggy, what a cross old thing you are!" sighed Mary, at the end of Peggy’s remarks upon the text of there being nobody in the house to do anything save herself. "I should really love to stay and have a good battle to warm us up, except that we should both be near to weeping when it was done, and you would be sorrier than you need, and cook something much too nice for supper, tired as you are." Then she dropped her hands and relaxed her mocking pose. "Come, Peggy dear, the colonel’s here, and he’s ridden the whole length of Beech Ridge and the Tow-wow woods since morning with his surveyors; he ’s very cold and down-hearted, and I only want a spatter of mulled wine for him. Come, find me a little skillet and we ’ll heat it here on the coals. See, they ’re winking bright under that hill of ashes. Where are all the maids?" "In their beds, I suppose, black and white alike, and getting their first sleep like ladies," grumbled Peggy. "I told them the master would be late, and would sup at Pine Hill, as he said this morning. ’T is no matter about me; Cæsar and me, we ’re old and tough," and the stern features relaxed a little. "Why did n’t you tell me ’t was for the master, an’ he’d no supper after such a day, with the clock far past seven, and you yourself with nothing but bread and milk to stay you? Truth to tell, I was asleep in the corner of the settle here, and a spark ’s burnt me a hole in this good apron and spoilt my temper. You have too much patience with poor old Peggy," she muttered, bending over the ashes and raking them open to their bright life with her hard brown hand. Mary stood watching her for a moment; a quick change came over her face, and she turned away silently, and went toward the window as if to look up the river. "What was you designin’ to get for supper?" old Cæsar humbly inquired at this auspicious moment. "I mought be a-layin’ of the table." But Peggy did not notice him. He was still in a place of safety behind the settle, his gray head just appearing over the high back.