When I told my wife that I had caught three burglars, and they were fast bound in the library, she nearly fainted; and when I had revived her she begged me to promise that I would not go downstairs again until the police had carried away the horrible wretches. But I assured her that it was absolutely necessary for me to return to the library. She then declared that she would go with me, and if anything happened she would share my fate. "Besides," she said, "if they are tied fast so they can't move, I should like to see what they look like. I never saw a burglar." I did not wish my wife to go downstairs, but as I knew there would be no use in objecting, I consented. She hastily dressed herself, making me wait for her; and when she left the room she locked the door on the sleeping George William, in order that no one should get at him during her absence. As we passed the head of the stairs, the door of my Aunt Martha's room opened, and there she stood, completely dressed, with her bonnet on, and a little leather bag in her hand. "I heard so much talking and so much going up and down stairs that I thought I had better be ready to do whatever had to be done. Is it fire?" "No," said my wife; "it's three burglars tied in a bunch in the library. I am going down to see them." My Aunt Martha gasped, and looked as if she were going to sit down on the floor. "Goodness gracious!" she said, "if you're going I'll go too. I can't let you go alone, and I never did see a burglar." I hurried down and left the two ladies on the stairs until I was sure everything was still safe; and when I saw that there had been no change in the state of affairs, I told them to come down. When my wife and Aunt Martha timidly looked in at the library door, the effect upon them and the burglars was equally interesting. The ladies each gave a start and a little scream, and huddled themselves close to me, and the three burglars gazed at them with faces that expressed more astonishment than any I had ever seen before. The stout fellow gave vent to a smothered exclamation, and the face of the young man flushed, but not one of them spoke. "Are you sure they are tied fast?" whispered my Aunt Martha to me. "Perfectly," I answered; "if I had not been sure I should not have allowed you to come down." Thereupon the ladies picked up courage and stepped further into the room. "Did you and David catch them?" asked my aunt; "and how in the world did you do it?" "I'll tell you all about that another time," I said, "and you had better go upstairs as soon as you two have seen what sort of people are these cowardly burglars who sneak or break into the houses of respectable people at night, and rob and steal and ruin other people's property with no more conscience or human feeling than is possessed by the rats which steal your corn, or the polecats which kill your chickens." "I can scarcely believe," said Aunt Martha, "that that young man is a real burglar."