The memory of her lonely watch was really in great part what caused Madge’s voice to tremble and her eyes to fill, but as Jack knew nothing of this he was quite unprepared for her next remark:
“And what should you think? He has been taken up by the police for a burglar, and is locked up.”
The boy still said nothing, for he had hard work to keep back a burst of laughter. Locked up! Was that all? And he had been fancying—but here he checked himself, and set his teeth until the desire to either laugh or cry was gone. To Madge’s surprise he turned on her angrily the next moment.
“What on earth is there in that to make such a fuss about? I suppose they’ll soon find out their mistake and set him at liberty again.”
He swallowed some tea, took a bite or two of bread and butter, and, before she had got over her astonishment, had snatched up his cap and run off.
“What an unfeeling boy!” Madge said to herself when he was gone. “He doesn’t seem to care a bit for anybody. How different from Jem!” For Madge was one of those who judge people by their manner and appearance, and are not in the least able to see below the surface.
Then down came Bob and Jem, who had slept the night through, and were quite unprepared to hear that anything uncommon had happened. Madge had to explain again, and after his first surprise was over, Bob’s first thought was for “the mother,” as he called her.
“Where is she?” he asked, as she did not make her appearance.
“I persuaded her to lie down, as she was up all night. And she can’t do anything now but wait.”
“Fancy poor father locked up in the police station!” said Jem, looking inclined to shed tears, which evidence of feeling was set down to his credit by Madge, but had quite the contrary effect on Bob.