Gratitude

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The scene is the prettily appointed boudoir of Mrs. Ralph Farson. A large French window swings outward on a verandah and commands a view of the Farson lawn in front of the house. The time is 11 o'clock at night. Mrs. Farson is seated in a comfortable chair, nodding over a novel. She rises, turns to the clock and notes the time. She appears worried and drops, sighing, on the couch, waiting for her husband's return. Farson is enjoying himself at the club, to the neglect of his wife. His evenings with her grow fewer and further between, leading to certain estrangement between them. The curse of drink also takes possession of him, and it is seldom he returns to his home, after his evenings at the club, in a sober condition. Mrs. Farson drops back on the couch and goes to sleep. A moment later a black form moves across the porch to the window and peers stealthily in. The window opens, slowly, cautiously, and the thief steps into the room. He does not see the sleeping woman, but moves across the room to the door into the hallway and listens intently. Then he slips quietly across the room to Mrs. Farson's dressing table and with his jimmy pries open the drawer. Mrs. Farson stirs in her sleep and the thief observes her. Bending close over her, he listens to her breathing, then turns down the light and tiptoes back to the dressing table. The thief is a man, tall, straight and handsome, even in his shabby garments and stubble beard. He moves with grace and his eyes flash intelligence, so that we cease to look upon him as a thief, but as a man. There is no fumbling; he works with the adeptness of a craftsman who knows his work thoroughly. In another part of the house a door slams and a heavy step is heard in the hallway. The thief hears, springs to his feet and darts for the hall door. He draws back and runs to the window. A hansom is drawn up at the curb in front of the house and a policeman is chatting with the cabby. There is no escape from the room. The window, draped with heavy damask curtains, offers a hiding place. He draws the curtains to as Ralph Farson opens the door and steps into the room. As usual, he is intoxicated. He shakes his wife from her slumbers and she rises a little frightened. Having lost heavily at bridge, Farson is angry at everything and everybody. He begins by abusing his wife. She endeavors to stay his hand when he reaches for the decanter of whiskey, and in a rage he turns on her. The thief springs into the room, pulls the drunken husband away from his wife and with a stiff blow sends him crashing to the floor. This sobers Farson and he rises from the floor stunned and bewildered. A moment later the thief, taken unawares, looks down in the barrel of a revolver in Farson's hand. Farson telephones for the police, and two patrolmen arrive a moment later. Farson points out his victim, but the wife intercedes for the thief and bids the officers go. They leave, and the little woman stretches out her hand to the thief. Farson, crushed and repentant, is reformed and grasps the hand of the thief as he would a brother's. The thief returns the jewelry, and after clasping the hands of the man and wife together, quickly steals out through the window, leaving the happy husband and wife together.