She is an old
faithful domestic, who has been in your service forty years--whom
you could not live without! I say it under advisement--whom you
could not live without!"
"Hang it, sir, nor live with! Think of her helping to free the
prisoners! Actually taking Black Donald--precious Father Gray!--into
their cell and leaving them together to hatch their--beg you pardon-
-horrid plots!"
"But, sir, instead of punishing the innocent victim of his
deception, let us be merciful and thank the Lord, that since those
men were delivered from prison, they were freed without bloodshed;
for remember that neither the warden nor any of his men, nor any one
else has been personally injured,"
"Hang it, sir, I wish they had cut all our throats to teach us more
discretion!" broke forth Old Hurricane.
"I am afraid that the lesson so taught would have come too late to
be useful!" smiled the pastor.
"Well, it hasn't come too late now! Mrs. Condiment, mum, mind what I
tell you! As soon as we return to Hurricane Hall, send in your
accounts and seek a new home! I am not going to suffer myself to be
set at naught any longer!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, bringing down
his cane with an emphatic thump.
The sorely troubled minister was again about to interfere, when, as
the worm if trodden upon, will turn, Mrs. Condiment herself spoke
up, saying:
"Lor, Major Warfield, sir, there were others deceived besides me,
and as for myself, I never can think of the risk I've run without
growing cold all over!"
"Serves you right, mum, for your officiousness, and obsequiousness
and toadying to--precious Mr.
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