shin guards for 7 year old

"Pray let me take you to the house," said a voice close beside her, a man's voice—low and deep, and with the accents of refinement.

"It will be at least a year before he comes back," she sobbed. "How can I live without him all that dreary time?"

"I am not going to the ball."

"Come now, ma'am, I shan't let you go to the ball if you don't take these. What, not a bit of fire—and you asleep here in the cold? What was that addle-pated Susan thinking about, I wonder? I'll take the tray upstairs. There's a lovely fire in your room, and everything ready for you to dress. I want to be able to tell Mr. Martin that his young wife was the belle of the ball."

He echoed her words as if almost paralyzed by horror.

"Yes, Tabby, it is I—and I want to know what you've got to say to me. Do you know how a deserter feels when he suddenly finds himself face to face with his commanding officer? I never had such a knock-down blow as when I came home the day before yesterday and found you had deserted your post—you whom I trusted so implicitly."

"Grey! A dowager's colour, a soured spinster's colour—a Quaker's no colour. I detest grey."

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