“Your kind mistress is never angry with anybody for anything,” answered Mr. Lyon, doing justice to his neglected young wife, on this occasion at least. “And,” he added, “I will hear what she has to say about the matter before I excuse you. And now, Leo,” he inquired, turning to the boy, “what about this alarm at the house? I hope it was a false one. Was it of thieves?”
“Well, sir, I don’t rightly know whether it was a false alarm or not, nor likewise whether it was thieves.”
“Tell me all you know of it.”
“If you please, I don’t know anything about it personably myself. It was not me as seen the face at the window, in the dead hour of the night, it was my mistress.”
“‘A face at the window in the dead of night?’” echoed Mr. Lyon, in astonishment.
“Yes, sir.”
“What night?”
“Last night, sir, about this hour, as I understand.”
“Give me the particulars.”
Leo began and related the story, as he had received it from his mistress.