to answer. For no boy
would stoop to take fish from the brook, when he had the whole of
Dove Lake to fish in. It was all right for little girls, who were
not allowed to go down to the lake, to run about hunting fish in
the woods, they said.

Despite the superior airs of the boys, the little girl only
half-believed them. "Surely someone must take the fish off my
hooks!" she said to herself. Hers were real hooks, too, and not
just bent pins. And in order to satisfy herself she arose one
morning before Jan or Katrina were awake, and ran over to the
brook. When near to the stream she slackened her pace, taking very
short cautious steps so as not to slip on the stones or to rustle
the bushes. Then, all at once her, whole body became numb. For at
the edge of the brook, on the very spot where she had set out her
poles the morning before, stood a fish thief tampering with her
lines. It was not one of the boys, as she had supposed, but a grown
man, who was just then bending over the water, drawing up a fish.

Little Glory Goldie was never afraid. She rushed right up to the
thief and caught him in the act.

"So you're the one who comes here and takes my fish!" she said.
"It's a good thing I've run across you at last so we can put a stop
to this stealing."

The man then raised his head, and now Glory Goldie saw his face. It
was the old seine-maker, who was one of their neighbours.

"Yes, I know this is your tackle," the man admitted, without
getting angry or excited, as most folks do when taken to task for
wrongdoing.

"But how can you take what isn't yours?" asked the puzzled
youngster.

The man looked straight at her; she never forgot that look; she
seemed to be peering into two open and empty caverns at the back of
which were a pair of half-dead eyes, beyond reflecting either joy
or grief.

"Well, you see, I'm aware that you get what you require from your
parents and that you fish only for the fun of it, while at my home
we are starving."

The little girl flushed. Now she felt ashamed.

The seine-maker said nothing further, but picked up his cap (it had
dropped from his head while he was bending over the fishing-poles)
and went his way. Nor did Glory Goldie speak. A couple of fish lay
floundering on the ground, but she did not take them up; when she
had stood a while looking at them, she kicked them back into the
water.

All that day the little girl felt displeased with herself, without
knowing why. For indee