CHAPTER X--PEGGY TEACHES A LESSON
"Rise then, my countrymen! for fight prepare, Gird on your swords, and fearless rush to war! For your grieved country nobly dare to die, And empty all your veins for liberty."
--Jonathan Mitchell Sewall.
It was several days before Peggy could have another talk with MasterDrayton, but meantime she set up the needles and began to knitvigorously on stockings, spun into thread more of the flax, and putSukey to work weaving it into cloth.
"Peggy, what is thee so busy about?" asked Mrs. Owen, coming into thekitchen where the girl had been at work since the dawn.
Peggy looked up from the dye kettle with a puzzled look on her face, andgave an extra poke at the cloth reposing therein by way of emphasis.
"I am trying to dye some cloth, mother, but it doesn't seem to comeright. What shall be done to indigo to get a pretty blue? I had notrouble with the yellow dye. See how beautifully this piece came out.Such a soft fine buff! I am pleased with it--but this----"
She paused and turned inquiringly toward her mother. Mrs. Owen took thestick from her hand, and held up a piece of cloth from the steamingkettle, examining it critically.
"Fix another kettle of water, Peggy," she said, "and let it be near toboiling. Into it put some salts of tin, alum and cream of tartar. Itneeds brightening, and will come a pretty blue when washed in thesolution. There! Punch each part of the cloth down into the water,child, so that it may be thoroughly wetted. So! Now rinse well, and hangit out to dry. That done thou shalt tell me for what purpose thou hastdyed the cloth such especial colors. Thy father hath no need of a newuniform."
"'Tis for Friend John," said Peggy dabbling the cloth vigorously up anddown in the rinsing water.
"Why! hath he expressed a wish to return?" exclaimed Mrs. Owen inamazement. "I had heard naught of it."
Peggy laughed.
"Not yet, mother," she cried, her eyes dancing with mirth. "But I seesigns. Oh, I see signs. This must be ready anent the time he does wishto go. This, with socks, and weapons, and aught else he may need."
"Hast thou been reasoning with him, Peggy, that thee feels so sure?"
"A little," admitted the girl. "This afternoon, if none comes tointerrupt, I shall do more. Mother, what would I do without thee? Theedid just the right thing to bring this cloth to the proper color. Is itnot beautiful? Would I could do so well."
"'Twill come in time, my daughter. Skill in dyeing as in aught elsecomes only from practice. But here is Sukey to tell us of visitors. Washthy hands and join us, Peggy. If 'tis Sally Bache I make no doubt butthat there is news from Dr. Franklin."
'Twas customary at this time to pay morning visits in Philadelphia, andseveral came, one after another, so that by the time she had finishedher interrupted tasks Peggy found the afternoon well on toward its closebefore she could pay her usual visit to Master Drayton. She found himawaiting her coming with eagerness.
"'Tis good to be sheltered and fed," he said as the maiden entered theroom, "but none the less 'tis monstrous tiresome to be cooped up. Whatshall be done to amuse me, Mistress Peggy?"
"Would thee like to have me read to thee?" she asked, a gleam ofmischief coming into her eyes.
"The very thing," he cried, seating himself comfortably on the settle."Is it a tale? Or perchance you have brought a verse book?"
"Neither," she answered. "Art sure that thou art comfortable, FriendJohn? Does thee need anything at all?"
"Nothing at all," he replied pleased at her solicitude. "And now for thereading. I am curious to see what you have chosen, for I see that youhave brought something with you."
"Yes," she responded, producing a pamphlet. "'Tis just a littlesomething from a writer who calls himself, 'Common Sense.'" Before hehad time to expostulate she began hurriedly:
"'These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and thesunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of hiscountry; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of menand women. We have this consolation with us, that the harder theconflict, the more glorious the triumph.'"
"Now see here," broke in the youth in an injured tone sitting boltupright. "That's mean! Downright mean, I say, to take advantage of afellow like that. If you want to begin again on that summer soldierbusiness, why say so right out."
"Does thee object very seriously, John, to listening?" queried themaiden mildly. "I would like to read thee the article."
"Oh, go ahead! I guess I can stand it." Drayton set his lips togethergrimly, and half turned from her.
Peggy waited for no further permission. The pamphlet was one of the mostpowerful written by Thomas Paine, and, as he passed from paragraph toparagraph of the tremendous harangue, he touched with unfailing skill,with matchless power, the springs of anxiety, contempt, love of home,love of country, fortitude, cool deliberation and passionate resolve.Drayton listened for a time in silence, with a sullen and injured air.Slowly he turned toward the reader as though compelled against his will,and presently he sprang to his feet with something like a sob.
"In pity, cease," he cried. "Hast no compassion for a man?"
SLOWLY HE TURNED TOWARD THE READER]
But Peggy knew that now was the time to drive the lesson home, sosteeling her heart to pity, she continued the pamphlet, closing with theperoration which was such a battle call as might almost startle slainpatriots from their graves:
"'Up and help us; lay your shoulders to the wheel; better have too muchforce than too little, when so great an object is at stake. Let it betold to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing buthope and virtue could survive, the country and city, alarmed at onecommon danger, came forth to meet and repulse it.... It matters notwhere you live, or what rank of life you hold, the evil or the blessingwill reach you all.... The heart that feels not now is dead. The bloodof his children will curse his cowardice who shrinks back at a time whena little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the manthat can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, andgrow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink;but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct,will pursue his principles until death.... By perseverance andfortitude, we have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice andsubmission the sad choice of a variety of evils,--a ravaged country, adepopulated city, habitations without safety, and slavery without hope.Look on this picture and weep over it; and if there yet remains onethoughtless wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it unlamented.'"
"No more," cried the youth in great agitation. "I can bear no more.''Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart isfirm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue hisprinciples until death.' 'Tis true. Do not I know it. Until death! Untildeath! Wretch that I am, I know it. There have been times when I wouldhave given my life to be back in the army. Do you think it is pleasantto skulk, to hide from honest men? To know always and always that one isa poltroon and a coward? I tell you no. Do you think that I have notheard the inward pleading of my conscience to go back? That I have notseen the accusing look in your eyes? You called me a summer soldier! Iam worse than that, and I have lost my chance."
"Thee has just found it, John," cried she quickly. "Before thee servedfor thine own advancement; now thee will begin again, and fight for thycountry alone. If preferment comes to thee, it will have been earned byunselfish devotion. But thy country, John, thy country! Let it be alwaysin thy thoughts until its liberties are secured beyond recall."
"Would you have me go back?" he cried, stopping before her in amazement.
"Why, of course thee is going back," answered Peggy simply. "There isnaught else for a man to do."
Drayton noted the slight emphasis the girl laid upon the word man, andmade an involuntary motion of assent.
"Did you know that deserters are ofttimes shot?" he asked suddenly.
Peggy clutched at the back of a chair, and turned very pale. "No," shesaid faintly. "I did not know."
"I thought not," he said. "None the less what you have said is true.'There is naught else for a man to do.' I am going back, Mistress Peggy.I shall try for another chance, but if it does not come, still I amgoing back."
"And be shot?" she cried. "Oh, what have I done?"
"Shown me my duty," he answered quietly. "Blame not yourself, for therehath been an inward cry toward that very thing ever since I ran awayfrom my duty. I have stifled its calling, and tried to palliate mywrong-doing by excuses, but neither winter's cold, nor the ingratitudeof an unappreciative country will excuse a man's not sticking by hisconvictions. Never again will you have it in your power to call me asummer soldier."
"Thee is right," faltered the girl. "I--I am glad that thee has soresolved, and yet----Oh! I hope that thee will not be shot."
She burst into tears and ran out of the room. Girl-like, now that theend was accomplished, Peggy was rather aghast at the result.
Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls Page 12
