He jammed down his hat on his head and made for the door, while Mary Winkle gave a scream that would have done credit to the finest lady in the land.
“You shan’t do any such thing! You will be killed! What do you know about pistols? You will be shot by those murderous horse-thieves, and what will become of me—and Willette?” Mary Winkle urged the very arguments that have before now been known to make brave men falter and turn back from running risks.
“I—I shan’t do anything rash,” said Wright sheepishly. “I’ll just go round and rouse the neighbours and see if we can’t catch him, he can’t have got very far as yet. What beats me is why Pluto didn’t bark. The dog’s a fool, I’ll drown him.”
“Oh, I am thankful he didn’t bark, for you might have been dead by now if he had. You shan’t drown him, for he has saved your life. Horse-thieves are desperate men and wouldn’t respect our principles of non-resistance,” said Mary Winkle.
“Ahem,” said her husband, tucking the revolver out of sight until required.
“What we’ve got to do is to go to Madame and summon an Assembly of Urgency and talk this matter over, and see what the Community is to do. Wright, you can’t go and rouse the neighbours till you’ve got the sanction of the Assembly. You know that is the rule in all important matters, and this is about the most important matter that has ever come up for discussion.”
“Damn discussion!” said Wright angrily. “While we’re discussing that thief will get away. Sharp is the word for catching horse-thieves.”
“But sharp is not the word for determining the action of Perfection City in an important juncture like the present. Wright, I am surprised at you, and also at your language,” said his wife severely.
“Oh these infernal horse-thieves would provoke a saint,—not that I am one,” said Wright, still in a rage most unbecoming to a professed non-resistant, and Mary Winkle looked a whole essay full of rebuke at him. She carried the day, however, and together they carried their complaint to Madame.
They found Madame sitting at breakfast along with Uncle David, and being waited upon by a negro-servant, Lucinda, the mother of Napoleon Pompey. The heat of a cooking-stove made Madame ill, therefore she required a servant, and she had what she required, principles of equality to the contrary notwithstanding.