He turned away, and turned back again.

"My name is March--Henry March; if you should ever--" "Thank you, sir.

Good-day." "Good-day." I fancied he was half inclined to shake hands--but John did not, or would not, see it.

Mr.March walked on, following young Brithwood; but at the stile he turned round once more and glanced at John.

Then they disappeared.
"I'm glad they're gone: now we can be comfortable." He flung himself down, wrung out his wet stockings, laughed at me for being so afraid he would take cold, and so angry at young Brithwood's insults.