'Do you think we ought to go, mother?' said Anne slowly, and looking
at the smaller features of the window-flowers.

'Why not?' said Mrs. Garland.

'He will only have men there except ourselves, will he? And shall
we be right to go alone among 'em?'

Anne had not recovered from the ardent gaze of the gallant York
Hussars, whose voices reached her even now in converse with Loveday.

'La, Anne, how proud you are!' said Widow Garland. 'Why, isn't he
our nearest neighbour and our landlord? and don't he always fetch
our faggots from the wood, and keep us in vegetables for next to
nothing?'

'That's true,' said Anne.

'Well, we can't be distant with the man. And if the enemy land next
autumn, as everybody says they will, we shall have quite to depend
upon the miller's waggon and horses. He's our only friend.'

'Yes, so he is,' said Anne. 'And you had better go, mother; and
I'll stay at home. They will be all men; and I don't like going.'

Mrs. Garland reflected. 'Well, if you don't want to go, I don't,'
she said. 'Perhaps, as you are growing up, it would be better to
stay at home this time. Your father was a professional man,
certainly.' Having spoken as a mother, she sighed as a woman.