The Loom of Destiny
These he quickly gathered up, carefully brushing away the tell-tale marks with his sleeve.
He looked at his prize several moments without moving. It seemed, of a sudden, to have lost its value, and he doubted if, after all, chocolate was so nice as he had thought. One of the pieces he nibbled at timidly. The taste was crushingly disappointing, for it was unsweetened. It had all been a mistake. Almost nauseated, he spat the sickly taste of the stuff from his mouth.
Then slowly, terribly, it crept over him that he could never eat this thing he had stolen. Neither could he give it back. Nor could he carry it about with him. Someone might come in at any time,—at that very moment, and catch him with it. He wished he had never done it!
He guiltily stole downstairs, and across the little back yard out to the stables. Watching his chance, he climbed into the hay-loft unobserved, and buried the odious pieces of stolen things deep, deep down in the hay in one corner of the loft.
96
