shall appear before
them on the morning of Second-day at ten of the clock, to show cause
why they should not be indicted. 'Tis an unheard of thing to permit
it, as 'tis usual to petition, but I asked for their appearance,
knowing that their youth would be in their favor. 'Tis a grave matter,
as they acknowledged, but I think the most of them feel kindly toward
ye. I talked with several."

But Mrs. Owen saw that he spoke with assumed lightness. "I think," she
said, "that we ought to have Sally's mother with us. To-morrow is
First-day, which will give time to discuss the subject in all its
bearings. She should be with us. Robert, wilt thou go for her?"

"With pleasure, Mrs. Owen," he responded rising. "And we must not
forget that Uncle Jacob Deering is one of the Council."

"True," exclaimed Lowry Owen, her face lighting up. "True; I had
forgotten."

CHAPTER VIII

BEFORE THE COUNCIL

"Then call them to our presence. Face to face,
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
The accuser and accused freely speak."

--_Richard II._

Monday, Second-day in Quaker parlance, dawned. The intense cold had
abated though the air remained crisp and keen. A venturesome robin
perched upon the bare bough of a cherry tree that grew near one of the
sitting-room windows, and gave vent to his short and frequent song.
Sally called Peggy's attention to him.

"Dost hear what he says?" she cried. "Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up!
'Tis a harbinger of spring, and flowers, and warmer weather. Who knows
but that he brings good luck to us too, Peggy?"

Peggy smiled sadly.

"I hope so," she made answer. "But oh! I do wish this interview with
the Council were over."

"And so do I," agreed Sally soberly. "'Twill soon be now, Peggy, for
here comes thy mother to call us to get ready."

"Yes," spoke Mrs. Owen overhearing the words. "David says that as soon
as ye have donned your wraps 'twill be time to go."

Peggy and Sally were Quaker maidens, well drilled in art of
self-repression, so they made no scene as they bade their mothers
farewell, and took leave of Nurse Johnson, her son and Robert Dale. In
spite of their training, however, their eyes were wet, and neither was
able to speak for a few moments after they left the house. Then Sally
broke the silence.

"Peggy," she said, "after this I shall always have the greatest
sympathy for the poor wretches who are executed. I feel just as though
I was abou