"There is nothing to thank about," Reuben said. "I only did my duty as a police officer, and am disgusted at those scoundrels having got away. I have done all I could, since I arrived; but I can't help feeling, being in command of the force here, that we are to some extent to blame for these fellows carrying on, as they have done for months, without being caught."
"I think you had better come down, Whitney," Mr. Barker said. "There is something bright and hopeful about you, and I think that a talk with you might cheer the poor things up a bit. When people are in the state they are, they seem to turn to everyone for a gleam of hope, and comfort."
"Oh, if you think I can do any good, of course I will go; though I would rather stop here, by a good way."
So saying, Reuben went down with Mr. Barker to the house. A lady met them at the door.
"Arthur has just dozed off," she whispered. "Mrs. Barker is sitting by him. She insisted on our coming out. Will you come in here?"
As silently as possible, the two men followed her into the kitchen, and closed the door after them. The fire was blazing brightly, Wilkins having piled on some fresh logs before going out to smoke a pipe. Mrs. Donald was sitting in a dejected attitude, by its right, when her sister entered with Mr. Barker and Reuben. She rose and, coming towards Reuben, said:
"How can we thank you, sir, for the exertions you have made, and for having saved us from I dare not think what fate? As long as we live, my sister and I will bless you."
"I can assure you, Mrs. Donald," Reuben said, "that I have done nothing but my duty, and I only regret that we did not arrive half an hour earlier."
"Ah, if you had!" Mrs. Donald said. "But there—we must not repine—even in my sorrow, I feel how much we have to be thankful for."
"Yes, indeed," her sister said, "we have truly reason to be grateful."