"I am only a little boy, and perhaps there is something I don't understand; but--but--I don't think you ought to have done that!" "Done what, son of mine ?" asked the Skipper, gazing down at him with the bright, kind eyes that he loved, and that would not be kind the next moment, perhaps.

"What is it I have done ?" "To take the papers!" said John; and now his voice was steady, and he knew quite well what he must say, if only his heart would not beat so loud in his ears! "I don't think it was right; but perhaps you know things that make it right for you.

But--but Mr.Scraper left me here, to take care of the house, and--and I shall have to tell him that you went into the parlour and took things out of the cupboard." There was silence for a moment,--silence, all but the throbbing that seemed as if it must deafen the child, as it was choking him.

He stood looking at the ground, his face in a flame, his eyes full of hot, smarting tears.

Was it he who had stolen the papers?
Surely anyone would have thought so who saw his anguish of confusion.