"I am very sorry," said Mattie, submissively; "I did not think what I was doing. And you will give the letter to Miss Harriet?" "It's in the breast-pocket of my coat--I'll give it her." Mattie cowered before the flushed face, and the stern look thereon; this man was a friend of hers, too--one of the rescuers!--whom she would always bear in kind remembrance; she went softly across the room to the door, veering suddenly round to lay her hands upon his arm. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Hinchford," she said; "it was all done without a moment's thought. You, for the first time in your life, will not be angry with me?" "No, no, no, no," repeated the old gentleman, taken aback by this appeal, and softening at once; "I don't suppose you meant anything wrong, Mattie." "Thank you." Mattie went down-stairs in a better frame of mind, and yet ashamed at having been detected in a crooked action by a gentleman who always spoke so much of straightforwardness, and had a son who excelled in that difficult accomplishment. She was vexed at the impulse now--what would any man less generous in his ideas have thought of her? "Never mind," was Mattie's consolation, "I meant no harm--I meant well. And all will end well now, and everybody be so happy. What a change from the terrible thoughts of only a few hours ago!" She could think of nothing but Harriet Wesden's safety, and her own minor _escapade_ was of little consequence. Thinking of Harriet again, and rejoicing in the brighter thoughts which the last hours had brought with it, she opened the door at the foot of the stairs and went at once into the shop. Mr. Wesden was standing behind the counter, waiting upon a customer, as though he had never left Great Suffolk Street, and retiring from business had been only a dream. CHAPTER XII. A SHORT WARNING. Mattie stood in her disordered walking-dress, gazing at the stationer, for whose presence she could not account; Mr. Wesden looked across the counter at her. "Will you go into the parlour, please?" he said at last. "In the parlour!--ye--es, sir." There was something wrong--radically and irretrievably wrong this time; however greatly Mr. Wesden had changed, he had never looked so strangely or spoken so harshly as he did at that time. Even the customer whom he was serving, and who knew Mattie, turned round and glanced also in her direction. "Robbery!--there--there's been no more robbery!" gasped Mattie, her thoughts darting off at a tangent in the direction of her old trouble. "You can go into the parlour," he repeated, as harshly as before; "I'll be with you in a minute."