The Debtor. Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman
in his mind as to what he could possibly have to do with those small, hard, brown lollipops rolling about on his office floor.
“You had them in a glass jar,” said Charlotte, in an accusing voice, “right in his way, and—when he came home last night he had them in his pocket, and—papa whipped him very hard. He always does when—My brother is never allowed to take anything that does not belong to him, however unimportant,” she concluded, proudly.
Anderson continued to look at her in a sort of daze.
“No,” she added, severely, “he is not. No matter if he is so young, no more than a child, and a child is very fond of sweets, and—they were left right in his way.”
Anderson looked at her with the vague idea floating through his mind that he owed this sweet, reproachful creature an abject pardon for keeping his molasses-peppermint balls in a glass jar on his own shelf and not locking them away from the lustful eyes of small boys.
“Papa told Eddy that he must bring them back this morning and ask your pardon,” said Charlotte, “and when he came running out of the store I suspected what he had done; and when I found out, I made him come back. Pick up every one, Eddy.”
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