A little box, without a lid, held them all, but they seemed a great
library to him.

"There's readin' for a lifetime in them," he said. "I was juist
takkin' a look through them."

His face was guilty, however, as if his hand had been caught in a
money-bag, and I wondered what had enticed the lad to my books. I was
still standing pondering when Leeby ran up the stair; she was so active
that she generally ran, and she grudged the time lost in recovering her
breath.

"I'll put yer books richt," she said, making her word good as she
spoke. "I kent Jamie had been ransackin' up here, though he came up
rale canny. Ay, ye would notice he was in his stockin' soles."

I had not noticed this, but I remembered now his slipping from the room
very softly. If he wanted a book, I told Leeby, he could have got it
without any display of cunning.

"It's no a book he's lookin' for," she said, "na, it's his glove."

The time of day was early for Leeby to gossip, but I detained her for a
moment.

"My mother's hodded (hid) it," she explained, "an he winna speir nae
queistions. But he's lookin' for't. He was ben in the room searchin'
the drawers when I was up i' the toon in the forenoon. Ye see he
pretends no to be carin' afore me, an' though my mother's sittin' sae
quiet-like at the window she's hearkenin' a' the time. Ay, an' he
thocht I had hod it up here."

But where, I asked, was the glove hid.

"I ken nae mair than yersel," said Leeby. "My mother's gien to hoddin'
things. She has a place aneath the bed whaur she keeps the siller, an'
she's no speakin' aboot the glove to me noo, because she thinks Jamie
an' me's in comp (company). I speired at her whaur she had hod it, but
she juist said, 'What would I be doin' hoddin't'?' She'll never admit
to me 'at she hods the siller either."

Next day Leeby came to me with the latest news.

"He's found it," she said, "ay, he's got the glove again. Ye see what
put him on the wrang scent was a notion 'at I had put it some gait. He
kent 'at if she'd hod it, the kitchen maun be the place, but he thocht
she'd gi'en it to me to hod. He came upon't by accident. It was
aneath the paddin' o' her chair."

Here, I thought, was the end of the glove incident, but I was mistaken.
There were no presses or drawers with locks in the house, and Jess got
hold of the glove again. I suppose she had reasoned out no line of
action. She merely hated the thought that Jamie should have a woma