“Oh that, that!” she exclaimed, pointing to his right hand, which was now almost covered with blood; “you have been shot. You are wounded.”
Herbert, who had forgotten his slight injury, looked down at his discolored hand and gave a laugh.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” he cried; “if you will get me a little hot water and a bandage, I think we can straighten that out in short order.”
She proceeded to do this, bustling about with much intelligence and vivacity. The wound was dressed and she was in the act of binding it up when Mr. and Mrs. Black returned. They were amazed to see Herbert Harkins there, and still more thunderstruck when they learned the story of the attempted robbery. John Black was grateful, but he shook his head as he said to Herbert:
“You should not have released the man. He is a menace to society, and may attempt the same crime against other citizens.”
Mary spoke up at this point, saying:
“I disagree with you, father. Herbert was right. He might have been mistaken, but he was merciful and that after all means much in this unfeeling world.”
Herbert was delighted at such praise, and bidding her good-night stooped down and kissed her hand in the chivalrous manner of a gentleman of the old school.
The act appeared to please the girl, for her face crimsoned and stooping down, she picked up his wounded hand and gave it a kiss.
“You deserve it,” she said impulsively, “because you have acted the part of a hero.”