Boy.  “Yes, master.”

Master.  “On what day were these apples stolen?”

Boy.  “On Sunday.”

Master.  “What is the fourth commandment?”

Boy.  “Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath-day.”

Master, “Does that person keep holy the Sabbath-day, who loiters in an orchard on Sunday when he should be at church, and steals apples when he ought to be at prayer?”

Boy.  “No, master.”

Master.  “What command does he break?”

Boy.  “The fourth.”

Master.  “Suppose this boy had parents, who had sent him to church, and that he had disobeyed them by not going; would that be keeping the fifth commandment?”

Boy.  “No, master; for the fifth commandment says, ’Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother.’”

This was the only part in the case in which poor Dick Giles’ heart did not smite him; for he knew he had disobeyed no father—­for his father, alas, was still more wicked than himself, and had brought him up to commit the sin.  But what a wretched comfort was this.  The master went on.

Master.  “Suppose this boy earnestly coveted this fruit, though it belonged to another person; would that be right?”

Boy.  “No, master; for the tenth commandment says, ’Thou shalt not covet.’”

Master.  “Very well.  Here are four of God’s positive commands already broken.  Now, do you think thieves ever scruple to use wicked words?”

Boy.  “I am afraid not, master.”

Here Dick Giles was not so hardened but that he remembered how many curses had passed between him and his father while they were filling the bags, and he was afraid to look up.  The master went on.

“I will now go one step further.  If the thief to all his other sins has added that of accusing the innocent to save himself—­if he should break the ninth commandment, by bearing false witness against a harmless neighbor, then six commandments are broken for an apple!  But if it be otherwise, if Tom Price should be found guilty, it is not his good character shall save him.  I shall shed tears over him, but punish him I must, and that severely.”

“No, that you sha’n’t,” roared out Dick Giles, who sprung from his hiding-place, fell on his knees, and burst out a crying.  “Tom Price is as good a boy as ever lived; it was father and I who stole the apples.”

It would have done your heart good to have seen the joy of the master, the modest blushes of Tom Price, and the satisfaction of every honest boy in the school.  All shook hands with Tom, and even Dick got some portion of pity.  I wish I had room to give my readers the moving exhortation which the master gave.  But while Mr. Wilson left the guilty boy to the management of the master, he thought it became him, as a minister and a magistrate, to go to the extent of the law in punishing the father.