He usually gave a dinner party on Christmas day, after
which his people were free until the third of January.
"Demmy, mum!" he would say to Mrs. Condiment, "they wait on us
fifty-one weeks in the year, and it's hard if we can't wait on
ourselves the fifty-second!"
Small thanks to Old Hurricane for his self-denial! He did nothing
for himself or others, and Mrs. Condiment and Capitola had a hot
time of it in serving him. Mrs. Condiment had to do all the cooking
and housework. And Cap had to perform most of the duties of Major
Warfield's valet. And that was the way in which Old Hurricane waited
on himself.
It happened, therefore, that about the middle of the Christmas week,
being Wednesday, the twenty-eighth of December, all the house-
servants and farm laborers from Hurricane. Hall went off in a body
to a banjo break-down given at a farm five miles across the country.
And Major Warfield, Mrs. Condiment and Capitola were the only living
beings left in the old house that night.
Black Donald, who had been prowling about the premises evening after
evening, watching his opportunity to effect his nefarious object,
soon discovered the outward bound stampede of the negroes, and the
unprotected state in which the old house, for that night only, would
be left. And he determined to take advantage of the circumstance to
consummate his wicked purpose.
Pages:
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228