A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia

"She is very well looking," was the quiet answer.

"And somewhat of an heiress."

"No one can tell about property in such times as these. I am sorry thou shouldst have been disappointed in this respect."

The young fellow shrugged his shoulders and smiled with a kind of gay indifference.

"A young woman when Sir Wyndham was up at London captured him. He had gone many a time and had his yearly carouse with no danger, but she made him fast before he could fairly escape. She pays him much outward devotion. There was a great family of girls and they were glad to get homes, having little fortune, but being well connected. Then her child, being a boy, knocked me out altogether; the estate and title going in the male line. Still, he was generous to me. And being of a somewhat adventurous disposition I thought to enlist in the King's Guard, but there being a call for men to subdue the rebelling colonies, I decided to come hither."

"Thy philosophic acceptance speaks well for thee. Few young men could take a disappointment so calmly."

"I raved a little at first," laughingly. "But I was given a journey on the Continent, and there are chances still. It is said old men's children are seldom robust, while I can frolic for a week and remain sound as a nut."

Now that she saw more of him he did resemble his father somewhat, though not so tall and of a more slender build.

"Well," he said presently, veiling his impatience, "am I to see the little girl?"

"Julius," to the hall boy, who was shooting up into a tall lad, "go upstairs and ask Mistress Primrose to come down to me."

The child entered shyly, Julius having announced "two Britisher redcoats" with bated breath and wide-open eyes. She walked swiftly to Madam Wetherill's side.

"This is little Mistress Henry. Primrose, thou hast inquired about thy brother. This is he. Hast thou taken thy father's name?"

"I have added Nevitt to it. In a certain way I am still an appanage of Nevitt Grange – next of kin and in the succession. My sweet little maiden, I am your half-brother from England, and I knew and loved your mother."

He crossed over to Primrose and would have taken her hand, but she clung closer to Madam Wetherill, looking at him with half-frightened eyes.

"Nay, do not be so doubtful, my pretty child. If I have convinced your protectress, and I think General Howe has sufficient credentials to vouch for me, you may safely acknowledge me. At least, shake hands. I will prove the kindest of brothers if you do but give me a chance."

She glanced questioningly at her aunt and then ventured one small hand, while her cheeks flushed in a delicate pink.

He bent over and carried the hand to his lips.

"We must be friends, little Primrose, for now we shall see a good deal of each other, I hope. Will you not give me one smile? As I remember your mother, she was most generous of her sweetness."

"The child is strange of course. And she hath not heard much about you."

"Is it truly my brother?" She glanced up at Madam Wetherill as if not convinced.

"I have no doubt. I think I had an impression at once," smiling. "And when she is better acquainted – "

"But I do not like General Howe to take possession of our city. Patty says the streets are full of redcoats and I cannot go out."

She stiffened herself with great dignity, and now she looked squarely at him out of beautiful eyes.

"Who may Patty be? And you will see that General Howe has a right to be here. He will soon settle the rebels if he keeps on as he has begun."

"I am a rebel. And your general shall not conquer me. He is cruel and wicked!"

"Primrose!" said her aunt, though much amused.

"You have found a foe already," laughed Gilbert Vane. "One you cannot fight, but must persuade."

"But my Cousin Andrew has promised to fight for me. He is larger than you, and I like him very much."

She looked so spirited and daring that he wanted to clasp her in his arms and conquer her with kisses. He would soon oust this Cousin Andrew in her affections.

"Little girls must not be so fierce," reproved Madam Wetherill. "We have talked on all sides and the child hears it. Then some of my old servants are strong patriots, rebels I suppose they will be called. Your friend is right – a little patience is best for conviction."

"At least you will let me try to win your regard?" and he glanced steadily at his little sister, but she kept silent.

"It is best that girls should not be too forward, or too easily won. We shall hope to see thee often. Thou wilt meet people of many beliefs here; some ardent Tories, some as ardent rebels, perhaps. I place no restrictions on the beliefs of my friends. Now, Primrose, run away to thy work. I have still a few matters I wish to talk about."

"Surely you will wish me a farewell in a kindly fashion?" exclaimed her brother.

Primrose had walked across the room with great dignity. At the door she paused to bestow a smile and courtesy on her aunt, then a very dignified one on each of the gentlemen, holding up one side of her skirt daintily.

CHAPTER XII.

TRUE TO HER COLORS

The American forces had not gone on triumphantly. The two battles, fierce as they had been, had not decided anything. After the battle at Germantown Howe broke up his encampment there and proceeded to Philadelphia, resolved to make that his winter quarters. To be secure against starvation it was necessary to reduce Fort Mercer and Fort Mifflin, since supplies were to be brought into the city that way.

Washington prepared to go into winter quarters at Whitemarsh, but later moved to Valley Forge, that he might the better afford protection to the stores at Reading, and the Congress that had fled to York. The defeats had cast a gloom over the Continentals, but they were not utterly disheartened. In spite of his wound the Marquis de Lafayette carried himself hopefully, and helped inspire the waning courage of the men.

The news of the glorious victory at Saratoga was sedulously kept from them for some time. There were quarters to construct, wounded to tend, and winter at hand.

Philadelphia was crowded. Hospitals were full, prisons overflowing. The English settled themselves for the winter, many in the belief that the spring would see the crushing out of the rebellion.

In this serene hope they began to cast about for amusements. They found not a few of the Tory young women charming and affable. They resolved upon weekly balls at the city tavern. There were club dinners and gay suppers at the Indian Queen, and Ferry tavern, that often degenerated into orgies. For the ruder sort there were cockpits, where the betting ran high, and no end of dice and card-playing. There was among many of the lower classes an insolent revolt against an established order of things that had not brought them prosperity, and tradesmen had felt the pinch of hard times severely. The influx of British gold was hailed with delight, and some timorous souls that had longed for the larger liberty, yet feared the Colonies could never win independence, went over to the other side with sudden fervor.

Those of royalist proclivities opened their houses to the gayeties that swept over the town like sudden intoxication. There were private balls and dinners and tea-drinking, with no end of scarlet-coated young officers, and card-playing was rampant. The shabby little theater on South Street was no longer relegated to opprobrium, but put in some repair and made a place of fashionable entertainment; the versatile Englishmen turning their hands and their wits to almost anything in that line, from scene-painting to acting in comedy, farce, or tragedy.

It was soon noised about that Madam Wetherill's grand niece and protégé had a brother among the English officers. Many people could recall the fine old Quaker Philemon Henry, and his pretty second wife Bessy Wardour.

"Surely you are in luck, Madam Wetherill," said bright, inconsequent Sally Stuart. "Will you not be generous enough to give us a peep at this handsome captain? My mother remembers his father well. And what does the child say to this fine surprise?"

"She is not as enthusiastic as one might suppose."

"Ah! I remember; she is quite a little rebel, and her patriotism becomes her well, since she is but a child, but she will mend of that."

"Thou shalt see the young man, with pleasure. I shall choose some of the young people who have a hankering for scarlet."

"Well, they are going to give us a gay winter, and, Heaven knows, we have been dull as ditch water. The theater has been refitted. And there is talk of racing again and no end of diversion."

So Madam Wetherill gave a dancing party and asked the favorite young women of the day, since Captain Nevitt had proposed to bring some brother officers. Miss Franks and Miss Kitty Ross and Betty Randolph were to be among the belles of the evening, and many were pleading for invitations.

"I hardly know how to manage," the Mistress said with a sigh to Janice Kent. "Many have had soldiers quartered upon them with hardly a moment's notice. Mrs. Norris was relieved, it is true, and Lord Cornwallis proved himself a gentleman. Elizabeth Drinker protested since her husband was from home, but it was not regarded. And we have been favored, whether from the influence of this young Nevitt or not, I cannot decide. I like not to be so identified with the Tory party, but I cannot be ungracious to my little girl's half-brother and the child Bessy Henry loved. I think he must favor his mother's people; he has not much of the old Henry blood in him."

"I am not sure it is so bad a thing, madam, for we shall be less suspected of kindliness to the poor fellows who need it so much. And we may hear news to their benefit occasionally."

"Ah, if a turn could be brought about for our brave men! I hear that Mrs. Washington is to join her husband and share his hardships. It will put courage into many a loyal fellow that misfortunes have well-nigh disheartened."

So the great apartment was cleared of some of its ornaments that there might be more room for dancing, in that and the spacious hall.

Primrose had been curiously distant and wary. It had amused her brother very much, and he teased her about being a little rebel and said he should take her to England to cure her of such folly and that she should be presented at Court. For certainly the Continentals could not hold out when all the principal cities were taken and trade stopped.

He was proud of her beauty, and his flattery might have turned the head of almost any child.

"I shall insist upon taking her back to England with me," he announced to his friend. "And this fine old lady, Madam Wetherill, can be induced to go along, I think, when she realizes the hopelessness of the cause, for she is, by birth, an Englishwoman. And Primrose, it is true, will be quite an heiress. What a pretty name her mother gave her, and it seems that in it she outwitted my father. He was one of the strait sort as I remember him, and my pretty stepmother planned many a bit of indulgence for me, and hid some childish pranks from his eyes that would have brought severe punishment."

"You have good reason, then, to care for her and love the child. It seems to me a curious thing that your father should let you go abroad – his only son."

"But, if he had lived, he might have had half a dozen sons. He was a hale, hearty man, much too fine looking for a Friend. You must go with me to see the portrait of him, which, with some other keepsakes, belongs to me."

"And these cousins they talk about?"

"Yes, I must pay my respects to them. The days go so rapidly that one does not get through half one's plans. I had no idea there was so much interest in this old town of William Penn's. The winter will be a merry one."

"It seems not much like war," returned Gilbert Vane thoughtfully.

The party at Madam Wetherill's was a most brilliant affair. It seemed as if every conclave except the Continentals were represented. There were staid Friends in the rich attire of the better class; some in drab, others in coat and breeches of brown velveteen and silk stockings, and the younger men with various touches of worldly gauds. There were other citizens in the picturesque attire of the day, with embroidered satin waistcoats, powdered hair, and side rolls beside the queue, lace ruffles and gold lace and gold buttons.

And the belles were not to be outdone by the beaux. There were gowns of almost every degree of elegance, in brocades and glistening satins, wrought with roses or silver thread, turned back over beautiful petticoats. Gowns of Venise silk and velvet, with elbow sleeves and ruffles of rich lace, and square corsages filled in with stiffened lace called a modesty fence, through which the younger girls ran a narrow ribbon that was tied in a cluster of bows.

The hair was worn high on the head, with puffs and rolls held in place with great gilt or silver pins, and an aigrette nodding saucily from the top. The elder women had large caps of fine and costly material. Few were brave enough to go without, lest they might be accused of aping youthfulness. There were fans of white, gray, and lavender silk, bordered with peacocks' eyes, and their fair owners needed no Japanese training to flirt with them.

There had been numerous discussions about Primrose. Her brother longed to see her attired quite as a young lady.

"Nay, they grow up fast enough," protested Madam Wetherill. "And there will be a host of town beauties to whom you must pay court, who would be jealous of such a chit and think her forward."

"But she dances so beautifully. I can never be grateful enough that you have had her so well instructed, and brought up a churchwoman. And really she must dance. Lieutenant Vane is almost as much smitten with her as I am."

"The more need for me to be careful, then."

"Nay, I shall guard her well, for I want to take her to England fancy-free, so that she may have her pick among titles. She is fast outgrowing childhood. And there is nothing so sweet as an opening bud."

"Mine shall not be pulled open before the time. Remember she has guardians, and thou art not one. Her Quaker uncle may have a word. He hath only lent her to me."

"We will settle that with other questions," the young man replied laughingly.

That very morning he had brought her in a pair of pretty bracelets that had delighted her mightily. He clasped them on her slender wrists.

"Now you are my prisoner," he said. "I will not let you go until I have a sweet kiss from your rosy lips."

She turned her cheek to him gravely.

"Nay, that will not do. Truly thou art stingy of kisses. And I am thy own brother!"

"I am not thy prisoner!" turning her eyes full upon him with a spirit of resistance.

"Yes, indeed. I will get a requisition from General Howe that you shall be delivered over to my keeping."

"But I will not go. Americans are born free."

"Yes, I have heard that they so declared. And equal, which is very amusing, seeing there are slaves and work people of all sorts, with no more manners than a plowboy at home. And elegant women like your Madam Wetherill and that charming Miss Franks and the handsome Shippens. Still, I adore thy spirit."

"Thou mayst take back thy gifts. I shall never go to London with thee."

"Oh, Primrose! What does possess thee to be so cruel! I am half a Friend for thy sake, and our soldiers laugh at my thee and thou. What else shall I do to win thee?"

"Thou shalt fight on the side of my country instead of against it. I cannot love a traitor."

"Nay, I am no traitor. There was no question of this war when I was sent to England. There are many Friends siding with us and longing for peace and prosperity. It is these in arms against us who have forgotten their fealty to their King. They are the ones to be called traitors."

"Nay, there is no king here. And many of them came hither to be free and away from the King's rule, and they have the right to choose."

"What a saucy little rebel! And yet thou art so daintily sweet! Love me just a little bit because thy mother did. Many a time she kissed me. And hast thou no word of praise for the bracelets?"

"They are pretty, but I will not be a prisoner for their sake," and her eyes sparkled with resolution and a spice of mischief.

"Thou shalt be quite free if thou wilt wear them for my sake and give me a tender thought. Come, can I not be liked a little? I have heard thee declare an ardent love for the woman Patty. Am I of less account than a serving woman?"

There was something persuasive and plaintive in his tone.

"Patty makes my clothes and helps me with lessons when they are difficult, and she knows how to cure earache and pains, and lets me go with her to do errands, and tucks me up at night. And she has promised to keep watch that no British soldier shall surprise us."

"It is a long list of virtues truly, but I will see the house is not molested, and I might help with lessons. As for the earache – I do not think such pretty ears can ever ache."

There were some quivering lines about her mouth, and now both laughed.

"And I will dance with thee to-night. Some day I will come and sing songs with thee. And all I ask is one poor little kiss in return for my gift."

"I would not give away a poor little kiss," she answered with well-feigned indignation.

"No. Forgive me. It shall be the sweetest thing in the whole wide world. Primrose, I am glad I can never be a lover to sue to thee. Thou wilt wring many a heart. And now I must go. It is a pleasure to me to bring thee pretty gauds, whether thou carest for me or not."

"I do care for thee," she said softly, a delicious color stealing over her face.

"Then one kiss."

She stood up on tiptoe and her soft, rosy lips met his.

"Heaven bless thee, little Primrose. Thou art very dear to me. Go show thy gift to Madam Wetherill. I asked her permission beforehand."

She ran to Madam Wetherill's room, holding up both arms. "See!" she cried.

"Yes. It is a new fashion, and I said when thou wert old enough for rings and gewgaws there is all thy mother's. But he coaxed so to give thee something. I hope thou thanked him prettily."

She hung her head, while a warm color came into her face, and raised her eyes hesitatingly.

"I would not be pleased at first because he said I was a prisoner, and that Americans were traitors."

"He loves to tease thee, Primrose. Yet he has a deep and fervent affection for thee."

Primrose hid her face on the ample shoulder. "I kissed him," she murmured softly. "Was it very wrong? For he coaxed so about it."

"Why, no, child. Thine own brother? But it is not proper to kiss outside of one's family, and now thou art growing a large girl and may see many gallants. So be wise and careful."

Patty did her hair high on her head, but Madam Wetherill bade her take it down again and tie it with a ribbon. And her white muslin dress was short and scant, just coming to her ankles and showing the instep of her pretty clocked stockings. There were lace frills to her puffed sleeves, and a lace tucker, with a pretty bow on one shoulder. But it seemed as if she looked more beautiful than ever before.

Everybody made much of her. It appeared to be an easy road to Captain Nevitt's heart. Even the handsome Major André, who had come because Nevitt had talked so much about his little sister and Madam Wetherill, and also because he was likely to meet some of the attractive young women of the town, and "Primrose was like a little fairy for beauty, and that her smiles were bewitching."

A very great time it was indeed. There were ombre and quadrille tables, piquet and guinea points for the elders, while the black fiddlers in the end of the hall inspired the feet of the younger portion. With the dancing there were jest and laughter and compliments enough to give a novice vertigo. Primrose was daintily shy and clung close to her brother, of which he was very proud, as she had never shown him quite such favor before.

Anabella Morris was setting up for a young lady, being nearly two years older than Primrose. Mrs. Morris had taken a certain Captain Decker in her house to lodge, who seemed very devoted to her daughter. She had not succeeded in capturing a husband yet, but it seemed quite possible with all this influx of masculines. The glowing and attractive description of "Fairemount" given before, as a place "where no woman need go without a husband," had not held good of late years.

The supper was in keeping with all the rest. There were solids in the way of cold meats served up in various fashions, there were wines of all kinds, and lighter refreshments of cake, floating islands, jellies, whipped sillabubs, curds and cream, and all the delicacies in vogue. There were healths drunk, toasts and witty replies, and, after a complimentary mention of the hostess, someone asked whether that pestilent old Quaker Samuel Wetherill was any relative, expressing ironical regret that he was not present.

Madam Wetherill rose tall and stately, with the most courteous self-possession.

"My husband and Mr. Samuel Wetherill's grandfather came from different towns in old England, but there may have been some of the same blood in their veins. And I think if my husband had espoused a cause he believed right, and gave of his means and influence courageously, fought, and should, perhaps, die for it, I should honor him as a brave man. For there will many brave men die on both sides."

There was a moment's silence, then hearty applause without a dissentient sound.

And when, toward morning, the servants were carrying away dishes and putting out lights, Madam Wetherill came and jingled three guineas in her hands, close to Janice Kent.

"I was thinking of our poor fellows and the sick and wounded to-night, and resolved that when they return to the city they shall have a greater welcome than this. And that rampant old Tory Ralph Jeffries, whom I should not have asked but for his daughter's sake, insisted upon playing when he was half fuddled. He is shrewd enough when sober, but to-night I won his guineas. And now I tell thee, Janice, what I will do. These new people are ready enough with their play and have plenty of money. Whatever I win I shall lay aside for our poor fellows."

"That is a fine scheme," and Janice Kent laughed.

"We must get out to the farm some day and see if we cannot send provisions before these British troops lay hands on it. For it will take a great deal to feed eighteen thousand men, and I doubt if they suffer at any time from honest scruples."

"It was a grand time. There are many handsome young men among them. But I think that Major André bears off the palm. There is music in his laugh, and his handsome face is enough to turn a girl's head. They are to act a play, I believe. Miss Becky Franks was talking of it to the Shippens."

Madam Wetherill sighed a little.

Already the quiet streets of the town had taken on a new aspect. There were fiddling and singing in many of the decorous old taverns. Men were shouting Tory broadsides of ridiculous verse; selling places for the races, when Tarleton was to ride, as that was sure to draw crowds, or hawking tickets for plays. Women were careful about going in the streets unattended, and cavaliers became general.

A few days later Captain Nevitt came in to escort the ladies out to Cherry Farm, as, somehow, many duties and engagements had intervened since his arrival until, as he admitted, he was quite ashamed of the lack of respect due his uncle. It was a bright, clear winter day, with a sky of wonderful blue, against which the distant trees stood out distinctly, the hemlocks looking almost black against it. The soldiers' barracks stretched out, giving a strange appearance to the once peaceful city. Groups of men were lounging idly about, and confusion seemed to predominate. But they soon left the city behind them, and rode along the Schuylkill, where the wintry landscape, leafless trees, and denuded cornfields met their glance, dreary now, but to be ruinous by and by.

Primrose had a pony of her own and rode beside her aunt, with her brother as her guard, while Lieutenant Vane was her aunt's escort. Primrose wore a blue cloth coat and skirt, trimmed with fur, and her white beaver hat was tied under her chin. Many women used a thin, silken sort of mask to protect their complexion from wind and dust, but Madam Wetherill had discarded it and did not always insist upon Primrose wearing one.