Still the baronet's frankness, and the baronet's not having reserved himself for the third and final charge, puzzled him.

He was considering whether they were a deep, or a shallow lot, when young Richard was announced.
A pretty little girl with the roses of thirteen springs in her cheeks, and abundant beautiful bright tresses, tripped before the boy, and loitered shyly by the farmer's arm-chair to steal a look at the handsome new-comer.

She was introduced to Richard as the farmer's niece, Lucy Desborough, the daughter of a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, and, what was better, though the farmer did not pronounce it so loudly, a real good girl.
Neither the excellence of her character, nor her rank in life, tempted Richard to inspect the little lady.

He made an awkward bow, and sat down.
The farmer's eyes twinkled.

"Her father," he continued, "fought and fell for his coontry.