"Another victim! My life on it--another victim! Poor child! She had
better be dead than in the power of that atrocious villain and
consummate hypocrite!" said Old Hurricane, passing on to the
examination of his favorite horses, one of which, the swiftest in the
stud, he found galled on the shoulders. Whereupon he flew into a
towering passion, abusing his unfortunate groom by every opprobrious
epithet blind fury could suggest, ordering him, as he valued whole
bones, to vacate the stable instantly, and never dare to set foot on
his premises again as he valued his life, an order which the man meekly
accepted and immediately disobeyed, muttered to himself: "Humph! If we took ole marse at his word, there'd never be man or 'oman
left on the 'state," knowing full well that his tempestuous old master
would probably forget all about it, as soon as he got comfortably
seated at the supper table of Hurricane Hall, toward which the old man
now trotted off.
Not a word did Major Warfield say at supper in regard to the new inmate
of the Hidden House, for he had particular reasons for keeping Cap in
ignorance of a neighbor, lest she should insist upon exchanging visits
and being "sociable."
But it was destined that Capitola should not remain a day in ignorance
of the interesting fact.
That night, when she retired to her chamber, Pitapat lingered behind,
but presently appeared at her young mistress's room door with a large
waiter on her head, laden with meat, pastry, jelly and fruit, which she
brought in and placed upon the work stand.
"Why, what on the face of earth do you mean by bringing all that load
of victuals into my room to-night? Do you think I am an ostrich or a
cormorant, or that I am going to entertain a party of friends?" asked
Capitola, in astonishment, turning from the wash stand, where she stood
bathing her face.
"'Deed I dunno, Miss, whedder you'se an ostrizant or not, but I knows I
don't 'tend for to be 'bused any more 'bout wittels, arter findin' out
how cross empty people can be! Dar dey is! You can eat um or leab um
alone, Miss Caterpillar!" said little Pitapat, firmly.
Capitola laughed. "Patty" she said, "you are worthy to be called my
waiting maid!"
"And Lors knows, Miss Caterpillar, if it was de wittels you was
a-frettin' arter, you ought to a-told me before! Lors knows dere's
wittels enough!"
"Yes, I'm much obliged to you, Patty, but now I am not hungry, and I do
not like the smell of food in my bedroom, so take the waiter out and
set it on the passage table until morning."