"Well, well, there is no need of that! You may ride as far as the
river's bank and back again in time to escape, if you choose!" said
Mrs. Condiment, who saw that her troublesome charge was bent upon the
frolic.
And Cap, seeing her horse approach, led by one of the grooms, ran
up-stairs, donned her riding habit, hat and gloves, ran down again,
sprang into her saddle and was off, galloping away toward the river
before Mrs. Condiment could add another word of warning.
She had been gone about an hour, when the sky suddenly darkened, the
wind rose and the thunder rolled in prelude to the storm.
Major Warfield came skurrying home from the mill, grasping his bridle
with one hand and holding his hat on with the other.
Meeting poor old Ezy in the shrubbery, he stormed out upon him with: "What are you lounging there for, you old idiot! You old sky-gazing
lunatic! Don't you see that we are going to have an awful blow! Begone
with you and see that the cattle are all under shelter! Off, I say,
or," he rode toward Bill Ezy, but the old man, exclaiming: "Yes, sir--yes, sir! In coorse, sir!" ducked his head and ran off in
good time.
Major Warfield quickened his horse's steps and rode to the house,
dismounted and threw the reins to the stable boy, exclaiming: "My beast is dripping with perspiration--rub him down well, you knave,
or I'll impale you!"
Striding into the hall, he threw down his riding whip, pulled off his
gloves and called: "Wool! Wool, you scoundrel, close every door and window in the house!
Call all the servants together in the dining-room; we're going to have
one of the worst tempests that ever raised!"
Wool flew to do his bidding.
"Mrs. Condiment, mum," said the old man, striding into the
sitting-room, "Mrs. Condiment, mum, tell Miss Black to come down from
her room until the storm is over; the upper chambers of this old house
are not safe in a tempest. Well, mum, why don't you go, or send
Pitapat?"
"Major Warfield, sir, I'm very sorry, but Miss Black has not come in
yet," said Mrs. Condiment, who for the last half hour had suffered
extreme anxiety upon account of Capitola.
"Not come in yet! Demmy, mum! Do you tell me she has gone out?" cried
Old Hurricane, in a voice of thunder, gathering his brows into a dark
frown, and striking his cane angrily upon the floor.
"Yes, sir, I am sorry to say she rode out about an hour ago and has not
returned," said Mrs. Condiment, summoning all her firmness to meet Old
Hurricane's 'roused wrath."