“Now, Jamie! the white gate.”
“The white gate!—what about that?” He had forgotten his promise.
“You have a secret to tell me.”
Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets.
“What do you think, Ju! look what I have found. Do you know what is in the loft of the cottage we were in? There are piles of tobacco, all up hidden away in the dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets stuffed as full as they will hold. It is for Uncle Zachie. Won’t he be pleased?”
“Oh, Jamie! you should not have done that.”
“Why not? Don’t scold, Ju!”
“It is stealing.”
“No, it is not. No one lives there.”
“Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever means it was got, and for whatever purpose stowed away there. You had no right to touch it.”