Old Hurricane sprang up as though he had been shot off his chair and
trotted up and down the floor exclaiming:
"And she--she out in all this storm! Mrs. Condiment, mum, you
deserve to be ducked! Yes, mum, you do! Wool! Wool! you diabolical
villain!"
"Yes, marse, yes, sir, here I is!" exclaimed that officer, in
trepidation, as he appeared in the doorway. "De windows and doors,
sir, is all fastened close and de maids are all in the dining-room
as you ordered, and--"
"Hang the maids and the doors and windows, too! Who the demon cares
about them? How dared you, you knave, permit your young mistress to
ride, unattended, in the face of such a storm, too! Why didn't you
go with her, sir?"
"'Deed, marse--"
"Don't ''deed marse' me you atrocious villain! Saddle a horse
quickly, inquire which road your mistress took and follow and attend
her home safely--after which I intend to break every bone in your
skin, sirrah! So--"
Again he was interrupted by a dazzling flash of lightning,
accompanied by a deafening roll of thunder, and followed by a flood
of rain.
Wool stood appalled at the prospect of turning out in such a storm
upon such a fruitless errand.
"Oh, you may stare and roll up your eyes, but I mean it, you varlet!
So be off with you! Go! I don't care if you should be drowned in the
rain, or blown off the horse, or struck by lightning.
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