“Jessie’s dictionary?” His voice rose in a shrill cry, that made me jump, and drew a warning growl from Guard.
I thought of the window beside Ralph’s crib, that Jessie so stoutly averred she did not leave open, and light dawned upon me. “Yes!” I repeated, sternly, contempt for the wretch before me overcoming all fear; “Jessie’s dictionary.” I had, by this time, picked up the book. Mr. Horton extended his hand toward it; and his tone was almost humble as he said:
“Let me see it.”
When the book was in his hands, he turned over the leaves, examining them with evident surprise and bewilderment. Finally:
“It is a dictionary, ain’t it?” he said, feebly, and repeated, under his breath. “It is a dictionary!”
“You thought, when you opened the window last night, and stole it off the ledge, that it was the Bible, with our family record in it, didn’t you?” I recklessly inquired. But Mr. Horton was past being angry.
“Yes, I did,” he said, making the admission as if still dazed.
“And you left the window open?” I went on.
“Yes, I did. The dog took after me—the dog has been hot on my trail from first to last, it ’pears, and you ain’t been fur behind him.”