"I want to ask you something," he added, confidentially.
"Anything—anything! Ask me anything!"
"Do you remember the wax figures?"
"Oh yes, I remember them very well," said the parson, quickly, uneasily.
"I wanted to see 'em, and I didn't have any money, and I stole a quarter from Mr. Leuba."
Despite himself a cry escaped the parson's lips, and dropping the boy's hand, he started from his chair and walked rapidly to and fro across the room, with the fangs of remorse fixed deep in his conscience.
"Why didn't you come to me?" he asked at length, in a tone of helpless entreaty. "Why didn't you come to me? Oh, if you had only come to me!"
"I did come to you," replied the boy.
"When?" asked the parson, coming back to the bedside.
"About three o'clock yesterday."