"How wouldn't it be a mistake?"
"If you had told Aunt Margaret what you wanted to do, and asked her for the cookies she would have given them to you."
"But I was 'fraid she wouldn't, and you ist had to have it."
"Not if it was wrong for me to have it, Billy. I don't want it that much."
"Must I take it back?"
"You think hard, and decide yourself," suggested Wesley.
"Lift me down," said Billy, after a silence. "I got to put this in the jar, and tell her."
Wesley set the boy on the floor, but as he did so he paused one second and strained him close to his breast. Margaret sat in her chair sewing. Billy slipped in and crept up beside her. The little face was lined with tragedy.
"Why, Billy, whatever is the matter?" she cried as she dropped her sewing and held out her arms. Billy stood back. He gripped his little fists tight and squared his shoulders. "I got to be shut up in the closet," he said.
"Oh, Billy! What an unlucky day! What have you done now?"
"I stold!" gulped Billy. "He said it was ist a mistake, but it was worser 'an that. I took something you told me I wasn't to have."
"Stole!" Margaret was in despair. "What, Billy?"
"Cookies!" answered Billy in equal trouble.
