And the nightingale will be here directly.

Oh, don't give it away!" My head was whirling now with the difficulty of persuading him, and I did not hear what he said across me to my father.

But I heard Father's reply--"Tell her yourself, sir." On which the Old Squire stuffed the big paper into my arms, and put his hand on my head and patted it.
"I told you I was a bad hand at talking, my dear," he said, "but Mary's Meadow is given away, and that's the Deed of Gift which you've got in your arms, drawn up as tight as any rascal of a lawyer can do it, and that's not so tight, I believe, but what some other rascal of a lawyer could undo it.

However, they may let you alone.

For I've given it to you, my dear, and it is yours.