What the demon shall I do? Wool!
Wool! you brimstone villain, come here!" he roared, going to the
bell-rope and pulling it until he broke it down.
Wool ran in with his hair bristling, his teeth chattering and his
eyes starting.
"Come here to me, you varlet! Now, listen: You are to keep a sharp
look-out after your young mistress. Whenever she rides abroad you
are to mount a horse and ride after her, and keep your eyes open,
for if you once lose sight of her, you knave, do you know what I
shall do to you, eh?"
"N--no, marse," stammered Wool, pale with apprehension.
"I should cut your eyelids off to improve your vision! Look to it,
sir, for I shall keep my word! And now come and help me to dress,"
concluded Old Hurricane.
Wool, with chattering teeth, shaking knees and trembling fingers,
assisted his master in his morning toilet, meditating the while
whether it were not better to avoid impending dangers by running
away.
And, in fact, between his master and his mistress, Wool had a hot
time of it. The weather, after the storm had cleared the atmosphere,
was delightful, and Cap rode out that very day. Poor Wool kept his
eyeballs metaphorically "skinned," for fear they should be treated
literally so--held his eyes wide open, lest Old Hurricane should
keep his word and make it impossible for him ever to shut them.
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