He lunched at the house of one of the leading farmers, where as a boy he had been always made heartily welcome.

Before mounting his dog cart, he stood for a few minutes chatting with Martha, his host's pretty daughter.
"You are not looking yourself, Martha," he said.

"You must pick up your roses again before I come back.

I shall leave the army then, and give a big dinner to my tenants, with a dance afterwards, and I shall open the ball with you, and expect you to look your best.
"Who is this ?" he asked, as a young fellow came round the corner of the house, and on seeing them, turned abruptly, and walked off.
"It is George Lechmere, is it not ?" A flash of colour came into the girl's face.
"Ah, I see," he laughed; "he thought I was flirting with you, and has gone off jealous.

Well, you will have no difficulty in making your peace with him tomorrow.
"Goodbye, child, I must be going.