"Look here, Beth," said her father, rescuing her from her mother's clutches, and setting her on the table—he had been talking aside with the police officer—"I want you to promise something on your word of honour as a lady, just to please me."
Beth's countenance dropped: "O papa!" she exclaimed, "it's something I don't want to promise."
"Well, never mind that, Beth," he answered. "Just promise this one thing to please me. If you don't, the people will try and kill you."
"I don't mind that," said Beth.
"But I do—and your mother does."
Beth gave her mother a look of such utter astonishment, that the poor lady turned crimson.
"And perhaps they'll kill me too," Captain Caldwell resumed. "You see they nearly did to-night."
This was a veritable inspiration. Beth turned pale, and gasped: "I promise!"
"Not so fast," her father said. "Never promise anything till you hear what it is. But now, promise you won't say bad luck to any of the people again."
"I promise," Beth repeated; "but"—she slid from the table, and nodded emphatically—"but when I shake my fist and stamp my foot at them it'll mean the same thing."