“Pshaw!” cried Lettice, gayly. “People can get married any day, but it isn’t every day that one has a chance of welcoming back war-stained veterans.”
“Can get married any day, eh? Well, I haven’t found that I could, or I’d have been a Benedict something over a year.”
“This is better than Dartmoor Prison, isn’t it, Joe?” said his uncle.
“Sh! Sh! Let us have no such reminiscences to-day,” said Betty. And then they all went into the house to discuss the dinner, over the preparation of which Aunt Martha had spent much anxious thought.
CHAPTER XX.
Her Valentine.
Lettice was not long in seeking a private talk with her father, there was so much that each wanted to say without the presence of listeners; and when many of the sad things had been talked over, and when the gladness of the present again enfolded them, her father drew the girl close to him.
“And what is this I hear of an impecunious young fellow who has dared to make love to my daughter?” he said.
“He didn’t, father, he really didn’t; he couldn’t help himself, for it was in a moment of great suspense.” And she told him the circumstances.
“And you have not given him any reason to hope he may win you?”