"Yes, my dear. We was standing outside, Wigg and me, leaning against the door, when the wind come like a clap of thunder, and blew it clean open, and of course we went with it, flat on our backs the pair of us. When we got on our feet again the wind was tearing so, and the snow was pelting down that fierce, that I thought we might venture to take a liberty, and we come down here to warm ourselves. And that's the long and the short of it, my dear."
He still had his arm round Mrs. Middlemore's waist, and now he gave her a hug. She was a pleasant-faced, round-bodied woman, some forty years of age, and she looked up smilingly as the constable--her favorite constable--hugged her, and said,
"Well, now, I declare you did startle me. When I opened the door, and sor two men a-standing in my kitchen, I thought of burglars, and you might 'ave knocked me down with a feather.
"And now we're here," said Constable Nightingale, "I don't suppose you'd have the heart to turn us out."
"Turn you out!" exclaimed Mrs. Middlemore, "I wouldn't turn a cat out on such a night as this!"
"More cats," thought Constable Wigg, with his eyes on the cold pork and pickles.
[CHAPTER III.]
A THRILLING INCIDENT.
"The wonder is," said Constable Nightingale, while Mrs. Middlemore shook the snow out of her clothes, "how you had the courage to venture out in such weather."
"It's 'abit, Mr. Nightingale, that's what it is. Once I get to doing a thing regular, done it must be if I want to keep my peace of mind. There wouldn't be a wink of sleep for me if I didn't go and fetch my supper beer myself every night. I don't keep a gal, Mr. Winks----"