Reader, I do not defend, far less approve, poor Cap. I only tell her story and describe her as I have seen her, leaving her to your charitable interpretation.
Next morning Capitola came down into the breakfast-room with one idea prominent in her hard little head, to which she mentally gave expression:
"Well as I like that old man, he must not permit himself to talk to me in that indecent strain, and so he must be made to know."
When she entered the breakfast-room she found Mrs. Condiment already at the head of the table and Old Hurricane at the foot. He had quite got over his rage, and turned around blandly to welcome his ward, saying;
"Good morning, Cap."
Without taking the slightest notice of the salutation, Cap sailed on to her seat.
"Humph. Did you hear me say 'Good morning,' Cap?"
Without paying the least attention, Capitola reached out her hand and took a cup of coffee from Mrs. Condiment.
"Humph! Humph! Good morning, Capitola!" said Old Hurricane, with marked emphasis. Apparently without hearing him. Cap helped herself to a buckwheat cake and daintily buttered it.
"Humph! humph! humph! Well as you said yourself, 'a dumb devil is better than a speaking one,'" ejaculated Old Hurricane, as he sat down and subsided into silence.