"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.