o, papa."

He looked up, with steady eyes, but cheeks on which the color flickered
most agitatedly.

"I only wanted to look at the man; and the men had left a ladder against
the wall by the little grated window; and I climbed up, and looked in.
And, oh! he had such a miserable face, papa! And I couldn't help
speaking to him."

"Well, go on."

The tone was not so peremptory as the words; and the child, too ignorant
to be really frightened at what he had done, went on with his
confession, quite heedless of the numerous eyes fixed upon him with
various expressions of tenderness, amusement, and dismay. And very soon
all came out. Everett had deliberately and intentionally done the deed.
He had been unable to withstand the misery and entreaties of the man,
and he had slipped down the ladder, run round to the unguarded strong
door, and with much toil forced back the great bolt, unfastened the
chain, and set the prisoner free.

"And do you know, Everett, what it is you have done?--how wrong you have
been?"

"I was afraid it was a little wrong,"--he hesitated; "but,"--and his
courage seemed to rise again at the recollection,--"it would have been
so dreadful for the poor man to go to prison! He said he should be quite
ruined,--quite ruined, papa; and his wife and the little children would
starve. You are not _very_ angry, are you? Oh, papa!"

For Everett could hardly believe the stern gaze with which the
magistrate forced himself to regard his little son; and sternly uttered
were the few words that followed, by which he endeavored to make clear
to the childish comprehension the gravity of the fault he had committed.
Everett was utterly subdued. The tone of displeasure smote on his heart
and crushed it for the time. Only once he brightened up, as with a
sudden hope of complete justification, when Mr. Gray adverted to the
crime of the man, which had made it right and necessary that he should
be punished.

"But, papa," eagerly broke in the boy, "he hadn't stolen the things. He
told me so. He wasn't a thief."

"One case was proved beyond doubt."

"Indeed, indeed, papa, you must be mistaken," cried Everett, with
tearful vehemence; "he couldn't have done it; I know he couldn't. He
said, _upon his word_, he hadn't."

It was impossible to persuade him that such an asseveration could be
false. And when the little offender had left the room, various remarks
and interjections were indulged in,--all breathing the same spirit.