ROBERTS: ‘I didn’t think—I hadn’t time to think.’ MRS. ROBERTS: ‘No matter. I’m glad you have _all_ the glory of it. I don’t believe you half realise what you’ve been through now. And perhaps this was the robbers’ first attempt, and it will be a lesson to them. Oh yes! I’m glad you let them escape, Edward. They may have families. If every one behaved as you’ve done, there would soon be an end of garotting. But, oh! I can’t bear to think of the danger you’ve run. And I want you to promise me never, never to undertake such a thing again!’ ROBERTS: ‘Well, I don’t know—’ MRS. ROBERTS: ‘Yes, yes; you must! Suppose you had got killed in that awful struggle with those reckless wretches tugging to get away from you! Think of the children! Why, you might have burst a blood-vessel! Will you promise, Edward? Promise this instant, on your bended knees, just as if you were in a court of justice!’ Mrs. Roberts’s excitement mounts, and she flings herself at her husband’s feet, and pulls his face down to hers with the arm she has thrown about his neck. ‘Will you promise?’ II MRS. CRASHAW; MR. AND MRS. ROBERTS MRS. CRASHAW, entering unobserved: ‘Promise you what, Agnes? The man doesn’t smoke _now_. What more can you ask?’ She starts back from the spectacle of Roberts’s disordered dress. ‘Why, what’s happened to you, Edward?’ MRS. ROBERTS, springing to her feet: ‘Oh, you may well ask that, Aunt Mary! Happened? You ought to fall down and worship him! And you _will_ when you know what he’s been through. He’s been robbed!’ MRS. CRASHAW: ‘Robbed? What nonsense! Who robbed him? _Where_ was he robbed?’ MRS. ROBERTS: ‘He was attacked by two garotters—’ ROBERTS: ‘No, no—’ MRS. ROBERTS: ‘Don’t speak, Edward! I _know_ there were two. On the Common. Not half an hour ago. As he was going to get me some rosebuds. In the midst of this terrible storm.’ MRS. CRASHAW: ‘Is this true, Edward?’ MRS. ROBERTS: ‘Don’t answer, Edward! One of the band threw his arm round Edward’s neck—so.’ She illustrates by garotting Mrs. Crashaw, who disengages herself with difficulty. MRS. CRASHAW: ‘Mercy, child! What _are_ you doing to my lace?’ MRS. ROBERTS: ‘And the other one snatched his watch, and ran as fast as he could.’ MRS. CRASHAW: ‘Willis’s watch? Why, he’s got it on.’ MRS. ROBERTS, with proud delight: ‘Exactly what I said when he told me.’ Then, very solemnly: ‘And do you know _why_ he’s got it on?—’Sh, Edward! I _will_ tell! Because he ran after them and took it back again.’ MRS. CRASHAW: ‘Why, they might have killed him!’ MRS. ROBERTS: ‘Of _course_ they might. But _Edward_ didn’t care. The idea of being robbed at six o’clock on the Common made him so furious that he scorned to cry out for help, or call the police, or anything; but he just ran after them—’ ROBERTS: ‘Agnes! Agnes! There was only _one_.’