"People are likely to be cool on a December night, with the
thermometer at zero, and the ground three feet under the snow," said
Cap, nothing daunted.
"Capitola, I admire you! You are a cucumber! That's what you are, a
cucumber!"
"A pickled one?" asked Cap.
"Yes, and as pickled cucumbers are good to give one an appetite, I
think I shall fall to and eat."
"Do so," said Cap, "for heaven forbid that I should fail in
hospitality!"
"Why, really, this looks as though you had expected a visitor--
doesn't it?" asked Black Donald, helping himself to a huge slice of
ham, and stretching his feet out toward the fire.
"Well, yes, rather; though, to say the truth, it was not your
reverence I expected," said Cap.
"Ah! somebody else's reverence, eh? Well, let them come! I'll be
ready for them!" said the outlaw, pouring out and quaffing a large
glass of brandy. He drank it, set down the glass, and turning to our
little heroine, inquired:
"Capitola did you ever have Craven Le Noir here to supper with you?"
"You insult me! I scorn to reply!" said Cap.
"Whe--ew! What long whiskers our Grimalkin's got! You scorn to
reply! Then you really are not afraid of me?" asked the robber,
rolling a great piece of cheese in his mouth.
"Afraid of you? No, I guess not!" replied Cap, with a toss of her
head.
"Yet, I might do you some harm.
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