ry that
I lent myself to such deception, and that I wish she would not think
hardly of me. I shall never see her again, Peggy, but I like not to
think that she thinks ill of me."

"I'll tell her all, my cousin," promised Peggy as she took her leave.
"Oh, dear!" she sighed as she wended her way toward Little Dock
Street, where Sally lived. "Oh, dear! will naught ever go right
again? Now just as Clifford gets so that he will listen to Sally this
had to happen! But Sally ought not to hold it against him. She must
not."

Sally was up-stairs, her mother told Peggy, and slowly she went up to
her friend's room. A crumpled heap on the bed told where Sally was,
but it did not turn as Peggy entered. She went over and put her hand
on the head that was buried between two pillows.

"Thee is taking this too seriously, Sally," spoke Peggy. "Don't be too
hard on him. After all thee knows that Clifford is just a boy."

Sally turned a reddened, tear-stained face toward her.

"He is to die," she murmured in shocked tones, "yet he jested. He
jested, Peggy."

"Sally, 'tis naught to make such a pother about. Men, especially
soldiers, regard death differently from the way we look at it. Let me
tell thee about the matter."

"I don't care to hear any explanation," answered Sally shortly.

"Sally, Sally, is thee going to be unreasonable and obstinate now?
'Tis as Clifford said: 'Thee should say naught against the English for
perverseness. Thee isn't much better.'"

"Did Clifford Owen say that?" demanded Sally, sitting up with flaming
cheeks.

"Nay; but something like it. How can I tell thee what he said if thee
will not listen? Or has thee made up thy mind not to listen to
Clifford's explanation in revenge for the time that he was in
listening to thine?" concluded Peggy artfully.

"Peggy! thee knows better than that. Of course, if there is an
explanation I will hear it. It did not occur to me that there could be
one."

"Now that is my own Sally," cried Peggy kissing her. She sat down on
the side of the bed, and began earnestly: "Sally, we must not forget
that my cousin belongs to the world's people. Many things which to us
are of gravity are not so to them, and our belief is as naught if it
doth not make us regard their feelings with charity. Clifford feels
sorrow now for the joke, and grieves because thee is inclined to think
hardly of him." Forthwith she told Sally how the jest had come about,
ending with:

"So thee sees, Sa