Peggy Owen At Yorktown

CHAPTER PAGE
I. A Loyal Subject of His Majesty,
George Third, Makes a Shirt 11
II. Harriet Makes a Present 25
III. A Glimpse of Clifford 38
IV. A Strange Presentiment 52
V. A Day of Note 60
VI. A Message of Indignation 73
VII. Harriet Takes Matters in Hand 90
VIII. Hospitality Betrayed 103
IX. The Dictates of Humanity 115
X. Farewell to Home 127
XI. On the Road 139
XII. The Home of Washington 149
XIII. The Appearance of the Enemy 164
XIV. The Journey’s End 174
XV. Peggy is Troubled 186
XVI. The Tables Turned 200
XVII. An Unwelcome Encounter 211
XVIII. Under the Lindens 220
XIX. Harriet at Last 234
XX. Vindicated 244
XXI. A Rash Resolve 254
XXII. For Love of Country 266
XXIII. A Question of Courage 280
XXIV. An Unexpected Encounter 289
XXV. Her Nearest Relative 301
XXVI. Tide-Water Again 310
XXVII. Peggy Receives a Shock 321
XXVIII. Verified Suspicions 333
XXIX. “I Shall Not Say Good-bye” 347
XXX. What the Night Brought 362
XXXI. The Dawn of the Morning 376
XXXII. “Lights Out” 395




Illustrations

“Did Thee Put Thy Name On It?” Frontispiece
“Thee Must be John Paul Jones” 70
“I Have Heard Nothing” 119
“Why Have You Come?” 183
“Benedict Arnold Forces His Presence Upon No One” 216
“Draw and Defend Yourself!” 298
She Stepped Into the Room 355




PEGGY OWEN AT YORKTOWN




CHAPTER I—A LOYAL SUBJECT OF HIS MAJESTY, GEORGE THIRD, MAKES A SHIRT


“Alone by the Schuylkill a wanderer roved,
And bright were its flowery banks to his eye,
But far, very far were the friends that he loved,
And he gazed on its flowery banks with a sigh.”

—Thomas Moore.

It was a fine winter day. There had been a week of murky skies and
dripping boughs; a week of rain, and mud, and slush; a week of such
disagreeable weather that when the citizens of Philadelphia awoke, on
this twenty-first day of February, 1781, to find the sun shining in a
sky of almost cloudless blue and the air keen and invigorating, they
rejoiced, and went about their daily tasks thrilled anew with the
pleasure of living.

About ten o’clock on the morning of this sunlit winter day a young girl
was slowly wending her way up Chestnut Street. At every few steps she
was obliged to pause to lift into place a huge bundle she was carrying—a
bundle so large that she could just reach her arms about it, and clasp
her hands together in the comfortable depths of a great muff. A ripple
of laughter rose to her lips as, in spite of her efforts, the bundle at
length slipped through her arms and fell with a soft thud upon the
frozen ground.

“It’s lucky for thee, Peggy,” she cried addressing herself merrily,
“that ’tis not yesterday, else thee would have a washing on thy hands.