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.