He took the volume which she held and, laying it on the sidewalk, picked up another volume and slipped the front cover of this underneath the cover of the first one. Then he placed the cover of another one underneath the back cover of the second, and so on until he had piled the whole rebellious assortment and effectually locked them together.
“There you are,” said he, and by way of demonstrating the reliability of the pile, he balanced it on his hand, allowing it to incline this way and that like the Leaning Tower. The books held fast as if they were glued together.
“Did you ever in your life?” said Miss Leslie, in complimentary astonishment at this sleight-of-hand performance, and trying to take the books from him.
“There are tricks in every trade,” said Gordon.
“And you know them all,” she answered in genuine admiration.
“But they’re just as heavy as they were before,” he remarked; “I’ll carry them for you as far as the school.”
Her protests were useless, for possession is nine points of the law, and Gordon held the pile of books. So they went along together toward the school building, which was not at all in line with the station, he talking volubly all the way.
“I think you are the boy who once opened a bottle of camphor for me in the school room by means of a piece of string,” she remarked.
“That’s nothing,” said Gordon, who loved to impart information. “Do you know how to open bureau drawers that stick?”
“Indeed, I wish I did,” she answered, smiling.