“I love to watch them and listen to them,” she used to whisper to herself. “They never bother to notice me nor try to send me away, and that is what I like.” And watching them along with Deborah from the very earliest times was always a crowd of grown-up school-children. “Why don’t they go away?” she used to ask herself. “No one asked them to come. They’re too inquisitive by far. But though they look in some ways like school-children they are quite grown up, and they behave far better and are far quieter than ever school-children are.” No wonder Deborah loved this other world. It had in it every glorious blended colour of the rainbow, and was essentially so different from the life she led herself. Still, though she gave almost all her time, consciously or unconsciously, to this other world, she did occasionally spare some of it for thoughts upon religion. It would, perhaps, have been impossible to find a child with a stronger belief in God’s power and goodness, or one who tried to walk in the right path more earnestly. But along with it she was constantly trying to gauge the depth of her own truth and feeling. On this particular night of the hanging of the picture she was especially wakeful. “Now I wonder whom I really do love best,” she said to herself, “God or father?” “You love your father best,” said a voice. But because it was very low and even, she thought it must be the devil. “I don’t,” she answered; “I love them differently, that’s all. Father lets me kiss the back of his head, but God I worship.” “Did you hear that?” said Plucritus, turning to Virginius. “That is capital. ‘God I worship.’ Why are you not more clever? When I speak she takes me for an angel; when you speak she makes sure you are the devil.” CHAPTER VII The appearance of prosperity on the farmer’s part lasted for just about two years. During that time Maggie won a scholarship and went to another school. Deborah still remained at the old one, and still did the old home-lessons. It was with great joy she once came home to say she had got the prize for these same home-lessons, and her greatest pride was that half the glory of it all was father’s. And he was just as pleased. Poor man! he didn’t get much success, so who could grudge him that? And he went to see her get it, though he didn’t often go to that kind of thing; and she had been so very nervous for fear she should make a mistake in going up and so make him ashamed of her. But the gentleman who gave the prizes had patted her ever so kindly on the head and he said he thought the home-lesson prize the best prize of the lot, for it showed the people at home took interest in the children’s work. After that the children at the school wrote an Essay on Kindness to Animals for a prize given by the well-known Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.