She was saluted by a volley of remonstrances from every friend and acquaintance who called during the day to offer congratulations on her safe issue from the perils of the night.
"Why did you allow him to hoodwink you?" inquired Mrs. Jonah Potts, warmly.
"He didn't hoodwink me," said Miss Gastonguay, obstinately, "and he was my burglar, I had a right to do what I liked with him."
"But one burglary is always followed by another. He will be breaking into our houses next."
"He will not," said Miss Gastonguay, wearily. "I talked the matter over with him. He will attempt no more robberies in Rossignol."
"You—talked—with—him!" ejaculated Mrs. Jonah, in long-drawn-out dismay. "With—that—wretch!"
"No more wretch than you and me. He's made of the same flesh and blood. He steals in one way, we in another."
"I—steal!"
"Your husband does."
"Thank you, Miss Gastonguay. Good afternoon."