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.