"Indeed, I'm sure if I'd known it was Black Donald, I'd no more have
suffered him inside of my tent than I would Satan!"
"Demmy, mum, you had Satan there as well! Who but Satan could have
tempted you all to disregard me, your lawful lord and master, as you
every one of you did for that wretch's sake! Hang it, parson, I wasn't
the master of my own house, nor head of my own family! Precious Father
Gray was! Black Donald was! Oh, you shall hear!" cried Old Hurricane,
in a frenzy.
"Pray, sir, be patient and do not blame the women for being no wiser
than you were yourself," said Mr. Goodwin.
"Tah! tah! tah! One act of folly is a contingency to which any man may
for once in his life be liable; but folly is the women's normal condition!
You shall hear! You shall hear! Hang it, sir, everybody had to give way
to Father Gray! Everything was for Father Gray! Precious Father Gray!
Excellent Father Gray! Saintly Father Gray! It was Father Gray here and
Father Gray there, and Father Gray everywhere and always! He ate with
us all day and slept with us all night! The coolest cot in the dryest
nook of the tent at night--the shadiest seat at the table by day--were
always for his reverence! The nicest tit-bits of the choicest dishes--the
middle slices of the fish, the breast of the young ducks, and the wings
of the chickens, the mealiest potatoes, the juiciest tomatoes, the
tenderest roasting ear, the most delicate custard, and freshest fruit
always for his reverence! I had to put up with the necks of poultry,
and the tails of fishes, watery potatoes, specked apples and scorched
custards--and if I dared to touch anything better before his precious
reverence had eaten and was filled, Mrs. Condiment--there--would look
as sour as if she had bitten an unripe lemon--and Cap would tread on my
gouty toe! Mrs. Condiment, mum, I don't know how you can look me in the
face!" said Old Hurricane, savagely. A very unnecessary reproach, since
poor Mrs. Condiment had not ventured to look any one in the face since
the discovery of the fraud of which she, as well as others, had been an
innocent victim.
"Come, come, my dear major, there is no harm done to you or your
family; therefore, take patience!" said Mr. Goodwin.
"Demmy, sir, I beg you pardon, parson, I won't take patience! You don't
know! Hang it, man, at last they got me to give up one-half of my own
blessed bed to his precious reverence--the best half which the fellow
always took right out of the middle, leaving me to sleep on both sides
of him, if I could! Think of it--me, Ira Warfield--sleeping between the
sheets--night after night--with Black Donald! Ugh! ugh! ugh! Oh, for
some lethean draught that I might drink and forget! Sir, I won't be
patient! Patience would be a sin! Mrs. Condiment, mum, I desire that
you will send in your account and supply yourself with a new situation!
You and I cannot agree any longer. You'll be putting me to bed with
Beelzebub next!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, besides himself with
indignation.