n to the darnin' o' Jamie's stockins an' to warm his
sark at the fire afore he put it on. He woke up, an' cried to her 'at
he wasna accustomed to hae'n his things warmed for him. Ay, he cried
it oot fell thrawn, so she took it into her head 'at there was
something in his pouch he didna want her to see. She was even onaisy
last nicht."

I asked what had aroused Jess's suspicions last night.

"Ou, ye would notice 'at she sat devourin' him wi' her een, she was so
lifted up at hae'n 'im again. Weel, she says noo 'at she saw 'im twa
or three times put his hand in his pouch as if he was findin' to mak
sure 'at something was safe. So when he fell asleep again this mornin'
she got haud o' his jacket to see if there was onything in't. I
advised her no to do't, but she couldna help herself. She put in her
hand, an' pu'd it oot. That's what's makkin' her look sae ill."

"But what was it she found?"

"Did I no tell ye? I'm ga'en dottle, I think. It was a glove, a
woman's glove, in a bit paper. Ay, though she's sittin' still she's
near frantic."

I said I supposed Jess had put the glove back in Jamie's pocket.

"Na," said Leeby, "'deed no. She wanted to fling it on the back o' the
fire, but I wouldna let her. That's it she has aneath her apron."

Later in the day I remarked to Leeby that Jamie was very dull.

"He's missed it," she explained.

"Has any one mentioned it to him," I asked, "or has he inquired about
it?"

"Na," said Leeby, "there hasna been a syltup (syllable) aboot it. My
mother's fleid to mention't, an' he doesna like to speak aboot it
either."

"Perhaps he thinks he has lost it?"

"Nae fear o' him," Leeby said. "Na, he kens fine wha has't."

I never knew how Jamie came by the glove, nor whether it had originally
belonged to her who made him forget the window at the top of the brae.
At the time I looked on as at play-acting, rejoicing in the happy
ending. Alas! in the real life how are we to know when we have reached
an end?

But this glove, I say, may not have been that woman's, and if it was,
she had not then bedevilled him. He was too sheepish to demand it back
from his mother, and already he cared for it too much to laugh at
Jess's theft with Leeby. So it was that a curious game at chess was
played with the glove, the players a silent pair.

Jamie cared little to read books, but on the day following Jess's
discovery, I found him on his knees in the attic, looking through mine.