CHAPTER IV--A GIRL'S SACRIFICE
"In Being's floods, in Action's storm, I walk and work, above, beneath, Work and weave in endless motion! Birth and Death, An infinite ocean; A seizing and giving The fire of living: 'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply, And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by."
--"Faust," Goethe.
"Thee is troubled, mother," observed Peggy as she and Mrs. Owen left theyard of Christ Church where they had been attending morning service.
The meeting-house which was built for the use of those Quakers who hadso far departed from the tenets of the Society of Friends as to arraythemselves on the side of their country had not yet been erected, andthe Free Quakers, as they were called, were therefore compelled toattend worship of other churches, or content themselves with "religiousretirement," as family service was called.
"I am, Peggy," answered the lady a look of anxiety overcasting her face."Let us walk for a little before returning home. It may be that the airwill soothe my feelings."
Seeing that her mother wished to be left in quiet the girl walkedsedately by her side, ever and anon stealing a glance of apprehension atthe lady's face. Presently Mrs. Owen spoke:
"Tis naught to make thee look so uneasy, child. I am concerned over thecity, and the extravagance that abounds on every side. See the fermentthat it is in! Formerly on First Day the streets were orderly and quiet.Now observe what a noisy throng fills the thoroughfares. Let us walk on.Perchance at Wicaco we may find the peace and quiet we seek."
The quiet, sedate city of Penn had in truth lost its air of demurerespectability. As the metropolis of the colonies it attracted all thoseadventurers of the older countries who sought to mend their fortunes atthe expense of the new United States. Many also who were sincere intheir admiration of the struggle for liberty had come to offer Congresstheir services, and taverns and inns were filled to overflowing withstrangers of distinction and otherwise. Militia drilled; troops marchedand countermarched; while many British officers, prisoners on parole,paraded the streets, adding a bright bit of color with their scarletcoats.
Mother and daughter passed slowly below High Street and continued downSecond. Past shops they went, and the City Tavern, crowded about withsedan chairs and chaises; past the Loxley House, in which lived thatLydia Darrach who had stolen out of the city the winter before to warnthe patriots of a contemplated attack by the British; past the dwellingof the Cadwaladers; past also the great house built and formerly ownedby the Shippens; and on past other mansions with their gardens untilfinally they paused involuntarily as the sound of singing came to them.The sounds were wafted from the old Swedish church of Gloria Dei, andthe two stood in silence until the singing ceased.
"Friends believe not in hymns or singing," remarked Mrs. Owen as theyturned to retrace their steps. "But there is something about theintoning of the psalms that calms the mind. It has ever brought comfortto me."
"Mother," spoke Peggy shyly.
"Yes, my daughter."
"The one thing that I have always minded about the Friends is that verylack of music. When I see other girls play the spinet I too would likedearly to play upon it. I have always loved music, mother."
"I know thee has, Peggy. That is the reason that I have not chided theewhen I heard thee singing the ballads and songs of the world's people.Perhaps some time we may see our way to thy learning the spinet. If itis right thee will be led to it."
"I know," answered Peggy. And then, after a moment--"What troubled thee,mother?"
"Vanities, child. 'Twas the dressing, and the pomade, and the powderdiscovered in the meeting. I have never seen so much before. And also, Ishame to confess it, Peggy, thy garb troubled me."
"Mine, mother?" Peggy looked up in amazement, and then glanced down ather girlish frock of chintz. "Why, mother?"
"In the first enthusiasm of the war," said Mrs. Owen, "thee remembershow we, thou and I, together with many patriotic women and girls, bandedtogether in an association formed against the use of foreign goods. Wepledged ourselves to wear homespun rather than buy any of the foreigncalicoes and silks. Before the Declaration every patriotic woman wasknown by her clothes, and it so continued until we left the city at thecoming of the British. Of course, now that the line of separation hathbeen drawn between Britain and her colonies, there no longer exists thesame patriotic reason for such abstinence; but we seem to be the last tocome to such knowledge."
"Mother, I never knew thee to be concerned anent such things before,"said the girl quickly.
"Perchance it hath been because we have not been dressed withsingularity before," observed the lady. "I hold that every gentlewomanshould be arrayed becomingly and with such due regard to the mode thather attire will not excite comment. Not that I wish thy thoughtsaltogether concerned about such matters. Thee knows how we have receivedwarnings from good and wise men on the subject in our own meetings, butwe must do credit to David. And," she added with a slight smile, "whilewe are still ready to sacrifice our lives even for the cause of liberty,we cannot steer clear of the whirlpool of fashion if we are to remain inthe city. Was thee not sensible of the difference between thy garb andthat of thy friends?"
"Yes," admitted the maiden candidly. "But I tried not to think about it.I have been longing for some new frocks, but since Star hath been takenI have not cared so much."
"The city seems caught in a very vortex of luxury and extravagance,"went on the matron. "I do not mean that we should be of those who carefor naught but self-adornment and useless waste. Were it not for thee----"She paused a moment and then continued: "Thou hast been veryself-denying, my daughter, concerning this matter, and hast borne thefilching of thy pony bravely. So then thou shalt have not only a frockfor the general's tea, but another also. And a cloak, and a hat,together with a quilted petticoat."
"Mother, mother!" almost screamed Peggy. "Thee overwhelms me. Where willthe money come from?"
"We have made a little from the harvests of the past summer, Peggy. Thenthe farm pays in other ways. Some of David's ventures have turned outwell, despite the war and the fact that he is in the army. We shall haveto be careful, my daughter, and not run into extravagance, but there isenough to furnish thee with a simple wardrobe."
"And thou?" questioned the girl.
"I shall do well as I am, dear child. And now let us turn our thoughtsfrom this too worldly subject to others more befitting First Day.To-morrow we will go to the mercer's for the things."
And so, despite the fact that nothing had as yet been heard of thestolen pony, it was a very happy maiden that set forth with her motherthe next day for the shops in Second Street.
"Friend," said the lady to a mercer who came forward to wait upon them,"let us look at thy petticoats, calimanico; for," she said in an asideto Peggy, "'twill be the part of wisdom to purchase the homely articlesfirst, lest we be carried beyond our intention for the frocks. We shallhave to be careful, as the prices, no doubt, have become higher. Howmuch is this, friend?"
"Fifteen pounds, fifteen shillings," answered he.
Mrs. Owen looked up in amazement, while Peggy, with less control, criedout:
"Such a price, and without quilting! Once it could have been bought forfifteen shillings."
"'Tis very likely," smiled the shopkeeper. "That must have been beforethe war. Prices are soaring on everything, and are like to go higherbefore falling."
Mrs. Owen laid down the garment gravely.
"A coat and a hat," she said. "What will be the cost of a very ordinaryone of each?"
"They cannot be procured under two hundred pounds, madam."
"And gauze for caps?"
"The common grade is twenty-four dollars a yard. The better qualityfifty dollars."
"Mother," whispered Peggy, "why need thee buy the petticoat? We canweave cloth for it, and I can quilt it myself."
"True, Peggy," as
sented her mother. "I think we can manage about thepetticoat, but a frock thou must have. A frock and some gloves."
"Cloth for a frock, madam?" questioned the merchant eagerly. "Shall itbe lutestring, poplin, brocade, or broadcloth? I have the best ofEngland, madam."
But Mrs. Owen's face grew grave indeed as he mentioned prices. Peggy'seyes filled with tears. She saw her new frock vanishing into thin air asfabric after fabric was brought forth only to be rejected when the costwas named. She knew that she had nothing to wear to the tea atheadquarters unless a new gown was purchased, and she choked in herdisappointment. Her mother saw her tears and turned to the merchant withdetermination.
"I will----" she opened her lips to say, when some one tapped her lightlyon the shoulder, and a clear voice called:
"Why, Madam Owen, are you buying gowns? What extravagance! If farm lifepays well enough to buy cloth these times I shall get me to a farmery atonce. Mr. Bache wishes to go."
"Sally Franklin, how does thee do?" exclaimed Mrs. Owen, greeting theyoung matron warmly. "I came down intending to buy a great deal, but----"
"The prices! The prices!" cried Franklin's daughter, waving her hands."It takes a fortune to keep a family in a very plain way. And therenever was so much dressing and pleasure going on! I wrote to father tosend me a number of things from France, among them some long black pins,lace, and some feathers, thinking he could get such things much cheaperthere."
"And did he?" eagerly questioned Peggy, who had now recovered herself.
"No; and I got well scolded for my extravagance," laughed Mrs. Bache."He sent the things he thought necessary, omitting the others. Headvised me to wear cambric ruffles instead of lace, and to take care notto mend them. In time they would come to lace, he said. As for feathers,why send that which could be had from every cock's tail in America."
"How like Dr. Franklin that is," remarked Mrs. Owen much amused. "Whatdid thee answer?"
"That I had to be content with muslin caps in winter, and in summer Iwent without. As for cambric I had none to make lace of. Oh, we shallall come to linsey-woolsey, I fear. Dr. Shippen talks of moving hisfamily from the city, and the rest of us will have to do the same."
She moved away. The shopkeeper turned to bring on more goods, hoping totempt his customers, and Peggy took hold of her mother's hand gently.
"It will cut into thy resources greatly to get these things, won't it,mother?"
"Yes," assented the lady soberly. "For the frock alone I would have topay as much as I had intended for thy entire outfit."
"Then thee must not do it," said Peggy gravely.
"There is one way that it can be done, my daughter," said her mother notlooking at her. "If thou wilt consent to forego all charitable giftsthis winter; if thou wilt let the soldiers or any other needy ones gowithout benefit from thee; then thou canst take the money for all thythings: the hat, the coat, the two frocks, the gloves, and all the othernecessaries of which we spoke. Now, Peggy, I will not blame thee if thoudost choose according to thy wishes, for thou hast already given upmuch. It rests with thee."
Peggy looked at the dazzling array of fabrics spread temptingly upon thecounter. She did want a new gown so badly. She needed it, she toldherself quickly. She had given up a great deal. Must she give up in thistoo? For an instant she wavered, and then a vision of some of thesoldiers that she had seen flashed across her mind, and she turned fromthe glittering array with a little sob.
"I could not, I could not," she cried. "And have nothing for the poorsoldiers! It would be a sin! But oh, mother! do let us hurry away fromhere. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is so weak."
Pausing only for a word of courteous explanation to the mercer the ladyfollowed the maiden from the store.
Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls Page 6
