What have you done ?" It was the voice of his uncle, the Canon Lucien.

Napoleon, turning at the question, met the glance of his uncle fastened upon him.

The Canon Lucien Bonaparte was a funny looking, fat little man, as bald as he was good-natured,--and that was _very_ bald,--and with a smooth, ordinary-appearing face, only remarkable for the same sharp, eagle-like look that marked his nephew Napoleon when he, too, became a man.
Napoleon looked at his uncle the canon with indignation and denial on his face.

"Why, my uncle, I have taken nothing!" he declared.
Then suddenly he remembered how he had been discovered by his uncle standing before the half-emptied basket of fruit.

Could it be that the old gentleman suspected him of pilfering?
Would he dare accuse him of the crime?
At the thought his face flushed red and hot.