"It is so beautiful," sighed Jeanne. "Something rises within me and I want to fly. I want to know what strange lands there are beyond the clouds. And over there, far, farther than one can think, is a big ocean no one has ever seen. It is on the map. And this way," inclining her head eastward, "is another. That is where you go to France."
"But I shall never go to France," said the literal youth. "I want to go up to Michilimackinac, and there is the great Lake Huron. That is enough for me. If the ocean is any bigger I do not want to see it."
"It is, oh, miles and hundreds of miles bigger! And it takes more than a month to go. The master showed me on a map."
"Well, I don't care for that," pulling the leaves off a branch he had used for a switch.
The rough, rugged, and sometimes cross face of the master was better, because his eyes had a wonderful light in them. What made people so different? Apples and pears and ears of corn generally grew one like the other. And pigs—she smiled to herself. And the few sheep she had seen. But people could think. What gave one the thinking power? In the brain the master said. Did every one have brains?
"Jeanne, I have something wonderful to tell you."
"Oh, I think I know it! Marie has a lover."
He looked disappointed. "Who told you?"
"No one really told me. I saw Monsieur Beeson walking home with your father. And Marie was afraid—"
"Afraid!" the boy gave a derisive laugh. "Well, she is no longer afraid. They are going to be betrothed on Michaelmas eve. Tony is a good fellow."