‘To Miller Loveday’s?’ said Anne.
‘Yes. The party is to-night. He has been in here this morning to tell me that he has seen his son, and they have fixed this evening.’
‘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.’