"We built it of stones."

"Where did you get your stones?"

"There was a pile of them close by."

"Did they belong to you?"

"No, sir."

"Then you stole them, did you?"

"It isn't stealing to take stones."

"Why, then, did you take them in the evening, after the workmen had
gone home? Why did you not go after them when the workmen were all
there? It looks very much as if you thought taking them was stealing
them."

Benjamin saw that he was fairly cornered. Such a catechetical exercise
was somewhat new to him. The Westminster Assembly's Catechism never
put him into so tight a place as that. Bright as he was, he could not
discover the smallest hole out of which to crawl. It was a bad scrape,
and he could see no way out of it except by telling the truth. We
dislike very much to say it, but, judging from all the circumstances,
he would have told a lie, could he have seen a place to put one in.
But there was no chance for a falsehood. He was completely shut up to
the truth. He saw that the wharf cost more than he estimated--that
stealing stones violated a principle as really as stealing dollars. He
was so completely cornered that he made no reply. His father