The farmer, in his spare time, taught her her lessons—and that was the beginning of the great love she afterwards bore him. He bought her a wonderful book with pictures and words in, and by the time she was seven she could read and understand quite well. Just about this time a boy from the town came to stay with them. He was a very well-to-do boy, and the son of very worldly people, and he looked down greatly upon Jane and the men-servants on the farm. But he formed a great attachment for Jack, the youngest son, probably as being much older than himself, and able to teach him some wonderful country games. He was a very curious boy and had what might be called a wonderful conceit of himself. One day he appeared before Deborah with a very determined air. “We’ve known each other nearly a week,” he said decidedly, “so it’s quite time we were engaged.” “All right,” she observed cheerfully, for it all seemed quite natural; and she began to plan a place for him among the chickens in her affection. “Yes,” he went on, “but of course I sha’n’t be able to give you much of my time. I’m a boy, you know. Some day I’ll be a man, so my life will be a much grander one than yours. You’re only a girl.” “Yes,” remarked Deborah, and accepted the inevitable with contentment. “Then if you like you can take a short walk with me now.” “All right,” said Deborah again. So they went. For some days after that they took the usual short walk, till one day he began in the same decided way. “We’ve been engaged long enough. It’s time we were married.” “But we’re not old enough,” said Deborah. This was too quick work altogether for one who always let things glide. “Yes, we are. Besides, if I’m married to you now I shall feel bound in honour to stick to you. Otherwise, when I go away I may forget you.” It seemed a very terrible thing to be forgotten, so she consented. “But how are we to do it?” she asked. “Oh! we stand together with the sky above us, and you must say to me, ‘Bernard’ (not Bay, that’s only short, you know) ‘Bernard, I take you to be my wedded husband’—and then I shall say to you, ‘Deborah, I take you to be my wedded wife.’ After that it’s all done and nothing but death can part us.” So they went together to the old rustic, ear-wiggy seat in the garden, and were married very solemnly. And he got his place among the chickens in her heart, and what place she got in his it would be hard to tell, as it was a very matter-of-fact union. Some days later he came with a more serious and thoughtful air. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he said, sitting down upon the floor and clasping his hands round his knees. “When I go home I’m going to school. Then when I’m old enough I shall be going to Oxford. And after that I’m going to India to shoot big game. Then when I’ve made a name I’ll come home and marry you proper—on the very day you’re twenty-one.”