part and then to interest. John, perturbed of spirit and sore of
heart, had been grateful for her favour. The attachment which poor
Sally had for a time diverted was soon re-established, and before six
months had passed the young couple were courting in due form.

Farmer Waring was at first a little annoyed, but consoled himself with
the reflection that blood was thicker than water. He had no son of his
own; it would be pleasant to keep Jinny still at the farm with a
husband whom he could "gaffer" and break in to his own ways; so, by
and by, consent was given, and John Dickinson was treated with great
respect by all at the farm, and already assumed the airs of a master.
As for Sally, he had never set eyes on her since the moment of their
parting. It had once come to his ears that she and her aunt were in
prison for sleeping out of doors, and, shortly after their release,
she had apparently "shifted" with the rest of her family. John thought
of her as little as possible, for the mere recollection of the manner
in which he had been duped, and, as he conceived it, disgraced, filled
him with disgust.

There was certainly no memory of her in his mind now as he climbed the
hill with Jinny on his arm. They had only been married a few days, and
his attitude towards her was still that of a lover. They sat down on
the summit of the hill, and John put his arm round Jinny's waist.
After the manner of their kind they did not talk much, but were
vaguely content with one another and their surroundings. Jinny had
some sweets in her pocket, and crunched one occasionally. John did not
care for sweets, but was thinking of having a pipe by and bye. The
larks were singing, and the little sandpipers fluttering about them,
uttering their curious call.