aking the coach. It would mean another day of hard riding, but they
were anxious to get home.

"And we will have all the rest of our lives to rest up in," declared
Sally. "For I don't believe that anything will ever tempt me to leave
Philadelphia again. Peggy, did thee feel like this when coming back
from thy other flittings?"

"Yes, Sally. It hath always proved hard to get back because of the
enemy. I think it always will until we have peace. I don't want to
leave home again either."

"If ever we get there," said Sally looking fearfully out of the coach
window. "Peggy, when the governor's family insisted that it would make
too hard a journey to take the stage to-day, I just felt that if we
didn't come something would happen to the coach so that we couldn't."

"I am glad we didn't wait, though it does seem as though the stage
goes very slowly. It fairly crawls."

Sally laughed.

"I dare say any vehicle would seem to crawl to us, Peggy. But we are
going home, home. Oh, I could just shout, I am so glad."

It was late that evening when the stage drew up before the Indian
Queen in Fourth Street. Leaving their portmanteaus to be called for,
the girls fairly ran down the street, turning presently into Chestnut
Street.

"Is thee afraid, Sally?" asked Peggy pausing before her home. "If thee
is, mother and I will see thee home."

"Afraid in Philadelphia?" cried Sally. "Why, there are neither raiders
nor pine robbers here. No; go right in, Peggy. I'm going on to mother.
I will see thee to-morrow."

She was off as she spoke, and Peggy mounted the steps, and sounded the
knocker. Her mother gave a faint cry as she opened the door.

"My daughter!" she cried. "Oh, Peggy, Peggy! I have feared for thee."

And Peggy crept into her arms, feeling that no harm could come to her
in such loving shelter. It was long before she was calm enough to tell
all that had happened, but at length sitting by her mother's side with
her head on her lap, she related what had occurred.

"The poor boy!" sighed Mrs. Owen. "It is too dreadful to think about
it. And his mother! I read of it, Peggy, in the paper. Thee can
imagine my feelings knowing that thou wert in the midst of such
occurrences. And Sally's mother hath been well-nigh crazed. Ah, my
daughter! I am thankful to hold thee in my arms again, but my heart
bleeds for that other mother who will nevermore clasp her son."

"And he was such a dear fellow," said Peggy brokenly. "And so brav