"Now, don't be cross; just see how damp it is there; it would spoil my riding-dress and give me my death of cold."
"Humph!" said the stranger, looking at her with a sly, grim, cruel resolve.
"I'll tell you what it is," said Cap, "I'm not witty nor amusing, nor will it pay to sit out in the night air to hear me talk; but, since you wish it, and since you were so good as to guard me through these woods, and since I promised, why, damp as it is, I will even get off and talk with you."
"That's my birdling!"
"But hold on a minute; is there nothing you can get to put there for me to sit on—no stump nor dry stone?"
"No, my dear; I don't see any."
"Could you not turn your hat down and let me sit on that?"
"Ha, ha, ha! Why, your weight would crush it as flat as a flounder!"
"Oh, I know now!" exclaimed Capitola, with sudden delight; "you just spread your saddle-cloth down there, and that will make a beautiful seat, and I'll sit and talk with you so nicely—only you must not want me to stay long, because if I don't get home soon I shall catch a scolding."
"You shall neither catch a scolding nor a cold on my account, pretty one," said the man, going to his horse to get the saddle-cloth.