"Where's my book, Lu?" he asked.
"O Max, I couldn't help it--but papa caught me reading it and took it away
from me. And he told me when you asked me for it I should send you to
him."
Max's face expressed both vexation and alarm. "I sha'n't do that," he
said, "if I never get it. But was he very angry, Lu?"
"No; and you needn't be afraid to go to him, for he won't punish you; I
asked him not to, and he said he wouldn't. But he threw the book into the
sea, and said neither you nor I should ever read such poisonous stuff with
his knowledge or consent."
"Then, where would be the use of my going to him for it? I'll not say a
word about it."
He went out, closed the door and stood irresolutely in the hall, debating
with himself whether to go up-stairs or down. Up-stairs in his room was
another dime novel which he had been reading that afternoon; he had not
quite finished it, and was eager to do so; he wanted very much to know how
the story ended, and had meant to read the few remaining pages now before
the call to tea. But his father's words, reported to him by Lulu, made it
disobedience.
"It's a very little sin," whispered the tempter; "as having read so much,
you might as well read the rest.
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