Derrice wrenched the cord from her dressing-gown, and with Miss Gastonguay's assistance tied firmly together the hands that he only pretended to withdraw from them. He was a cool and self-possessed stripling, by no means vicious in appearance, but rather of a philosophical composure, for, in spite of the pain in his foot, he seemed to take the accident of his capture as rather a humorous one.
When Prosperity and Tribulation arrived on the scene,—both fully dressed even to their watches,—their eyes as big as saucers took in the awe-inspiring sight of a gentlemanly-looking lad with bound hands stretched on the hardwood floor, while their mistress, her niece, and her guest, in startling costumes, held a consultation in the background.
"Prosperity," said Miss Gastonguay, "go heat some water, bathe that villain's foot, and put some liniment on it."
Prosperity, keeping at a safe distance from the prisoner's heels, put down his candle, lighted the hall, and prepared to do as he was told.
"Then take him out to the laundry," said Miss Gastonguay, "carry him if he can't walk, and do you and Tribulation keep close behind him so he can't get away; and you girls come to bed."
They went up-stairs with her. Chelda, strange to say, chattered excitedly, and did not want to go to her room. Miss Gastonguay and Derrice did not respond, and she was forced to leave them. They were both sombre and regretful, and neither of them could sleep, although they both threw themselves upon their beds.
Toward morning, Derrice saw through the open door that Miss Gastonguay was leaving her room. She sprang up, and, running out to the hall, found she was fully dressed.
"What do you want, child?" asked Miss Gastonguay.
"I want to ask you to let that young man go," said Derrice, firmly. "I believe he is sorry by this time."
"Little fool, would you have crime stalk unpunished through the land?"