Then the squire put the bridle-reins in my hands, bidding me present it myself.

I asked the name of the person.

He pointed at Janet.
I presented the pony to Janet, and said, 'It's from the squire.' She forgot, in her delight, our being at variance.
'No, no, you stupid Harry, I'm to thank you.

He's a darling pony.

I want to kiss you.' I retired promptly, but the squire had heard her.
'Back, sir!' he shouted, swearing by this and that.