There a curious scene was taking place. Chelda, who slept with one ear open in a cat-like fashion, had heard Derrice's first cry, and, leaping from her bed, had run to the head of the staircase, where she now stood with a revolver, calmly popping away at a confused jumble in the hall below, consisting of two men and a mass of something white. "Stop, stop, Chelda," cried Derrice, "the pony has come in!" The Fairy Prince had indeed, in his anxiety about the strangers who had been gliding around the house, mounted the front steps and pushed open the hall door, whose bolt the strangers had shot back to provide for speedy escape if necessary. The Fairy Prince had entered upon a tour of discovery through the hall, and, not finding them, had ended by placing his fat body immediately at the foot of the staircase. One of the men had slipped in his rapid descent, and had inflicted some injury upon himself, for his companion with many oaths was adjuring him to come on, and, finding he could not, promptly snatched at the pony's forelock, forced him aside, and rushed away. "Come, girls,--we've got one of them," cried Miss Gastonguay, triumphantly. "Chelda, put up that revolver. You don't want to shoot a man in the back,--give it to me. You young villain, if you move I'll shoot you dead!" and valiantly charging down the staircase with Derrice in close attendance, she hurled herself on the suddenly crippled man, who stood holding to the polished railing. He had twisted his foot, and at her words he made a last desperate attempt to get away, but fell headlong, whereupon Miss Gastonguay promptly placed a hall chair on his back. 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."