Fred was brought before them from the kitchen. The blow the
burglar had given him was covered with a piece of cold
beef-steak, and the water thrown on him to revive him was
thawing from his leather breeches. Mr. Carey expressed his
gratitude, and rewarded him beyond the avaricious dreams even
of a chauffeur.

As the three trespassers left the house, accompanied by many
pails of water, the girl turned to the lonely figure in the
doorway and waved her hand.

"May we come again?" she called.

But young Mr. Carey did not trust his voice to answer.
Standing erect, with folded arms, in dark silhouette in the
light of the hall, he bowed his head.

Deaf to alarm bells, to pistol shots, to cries for help, they
found her brother and Ernest Peabody sleeping soundly.

"Sam is a charming chaperon," said the owner of the car.

With the girl beside him, with Fred crouched, shivering, on
the step, he threw in the clutch; the servants from the house
waved the emptied buckets in salute, and the great car sprang
forward into the awakening day toward the golden dome over the
Boston Common. In the rear seat Peabody shivered and yawned,
and then sat erect.

"Did you get the water?" he demanded, anxiously.