He might have been the representative, the walking delegate, of some small cult of rebels against the established order of regard for the property-rights of others.

The sinner, the covetous one of another's sweets, became the accuser.

Just as he was going out of the door, following the pink flutter of his sister's muslin gown, he turned and spoke his whole mind.
"You had a whole big glass jar of them, anyhow," said he, "and I didn't have a single one.

You might have given me some, and then I shouldn't have stolen them.

It's your own fault.