“Because I have missed—but, Jamie, I hope you have not been at my workbox?”
“What about your workbox, Ju?”
She knew the boy so well, that her suspicions were at once aroused by this answer. When he had nothing to hide he replied with a direct negative or affirmative, but when he had done what his conscience would not quite allow was right, he fell into equivocation, and shuffled awkwardly.
“Jamie,” said Judith, looking him straight in the face, “have you been to my box?”
“Only just looked in.”
Then he ran to the window. “Oh, do see, Ju, how patched the glass is with foam!—and is it not dirty?”
“Jamie, come back. I want an answer.”
He had opened the casement and put his hand out and was wiping off the patches of froth.
“What a lot of it there is, Ju.”
“Come here, instantly, Jamie, and shut the window.”