, with
whom she had little in common, urged the mother to consent. She yielded
reluctantly. "Ann," said the gentleman in the ruby-colored coat, "would
take care of her." This Ann, the daughter of the Chief Justice Allen,
was a friend of Mary Swanwick's youth. There was advice given, and some
warnings, which the pleased girl, it is to be feared, thought little of
as, wrapped in furs, Schmidt drove her in his sleigh over the float
bridge at the middle ferry, and at last along the Monument Road from
the Lancaster Pike to the front of the Italian villa John Penn built
where now in the park stands the Horticultural Hall.

The sky was clear, the sun brilliant. There were far-away glimpses of
the river, and on the terrace to meet them, at three o'clock, a group of
gay young cousins, who came out with Mrs. Byrd of Westover, the hostess,
Ann Penn, very splendid in gown and powder, with Mr. Peters, their
neighbor, of late made a judge, and the Governor in purple velvet
short-clothes and gold buckles. He put out in welcome a lace-ruffled
hand, of which he was said to be proud. A hood, and over it a calash for
shelter from cold, had replaced the girl's Quaker bonnet, and now it was
cast back, and the frost-red cheeks were kissed, and the profuse
compliments of the day paid to the really charming face of Margaret,
whom nature had set off with color and whom stern decrees of usage had
clad for contrast in relieving gray silks.

There was whispering among those madcap cousins as they hurried her away
to Ann Greenleaf's room, a niece of Mrs. Penn, "to set thy hair in order
for dinner, thou darling Quaker." She was used to their ways, and went
merry with the rest up the great stairway whence William Penn, in the
serene beauty of his youth, looked down at the noisy party, now bent
upon a prank altogether in the fashion of their day.

As Margaret entered the room, she saw Miss Ann Greenleaf being trussed
up in stays by a black maid.

"Why, dear, is the room so dark?" asked Margaret; for the curtains were
drawn, and there were candles on the mantel and in sconces.

"The better to see how we shall look--in the evening," replied Miss
Willing.

Gowns, silken hose, high, red-heeled shoes, and powder-puffs lay about
on bed and chairs.

"We have a little secret," cried Miss Willing, "and we will never tell,
dear."

"Never!" cried they.

"We want to dress thee just for to see how thou wouldst look in the gown
of decent Christians."