I amused myself by watching a pale line of snowdrops which had come up one by one, like prisoners of war to their execution.
But the next minute I felt ashamed of the heartless simile, for it reminded me of poor Bill Watkins, who, taken after the battle of Mentz, last December, had been shot by the French as a spy.

Poor, rosy, burly Bill! better had he still been ingloriously driving our cart of skins.
"Have you been to see Sally lately ?" said I, to Jael, who was cutting winter cabbages hard by; "is she getting over her trouble ?" "She bean't rich, to afford fretting.

There's Jem and three little 'uns yet to feed, to say nought of another big lad as lives there, and eats a deal more than he pays, I'm sure." I took the insinuation quietly, for I knew that my father had lately raised John's wages, and he his rent to Sally.

This, together with a few other facts which lay between Sally and me, made me quite easy in the mind as to his being no burthen, but rather a help to the widow--so I let Jael have her say; it did no harm to me nor anybody.
"What bold little things snowdrops are--stop, Jael, you are setting your foot on them." But I was too late; she had crushed them under the high-heeled shoe.
She was even near pulling me down, as she stepped back in great hurry and consternation.
"Look at that young gentleman coming down the garden; and here I be in my dirty gown, and my apron full o' cabbages." And she dropped the vegetables all over the path as the "gentleman" came towards us.
I smiled--for, in spite of his transformation, I, at least, had no difficulty in recognising John Halifax.
He had on new clothes--let me give the credit due to that wonderful civiliser, the tailor--clothes neat, decent, and plain, such as any 'prentice lad might wear.

They fitted well his figure, which had increased both in height, compactness, and grace.