"Give you a line to find another boo-hoo-woo! I wouldn't do it, if I were you, Wool," said Capitola.
"Give me the paper, Wool," said Mrs. Condiment, taking the "permit" and tearing it up, and adding:
"There, now, you go home to your quarter, and keep out of your old master's sight until he gets over his anger, and then you know very well that it will be all right. There, go along with you."
Wool quickly got out of the way and made room for the overseer, who was sniveling like a whipped schoolboy, and to whom the housekeeper said:
"I thought you were wiser than to take this so to heart, Mr. Ezy."
"Oh, mum, what could you expect? An old sarvint as has sarved the major faithful these forty years, to be discharged at sixty-five! Oh, hoo-ooo-oo!" whimpered the overseer.
"But then you have been discharged so often you ought to be used to it by this time. You get discharged, just as Wool gets sold, about once a month—but do you ever go?"
"Oh, mum, but he's in airnest this time; 'deed he is, mum; terrible in airnest; and all about that misfortnet bobtail colt getting stole. I know how it wur some of Black Donald's gang as done it—as if I could always be on my guard against them devils; and he means it this time, mum; he's terrible in airnest!"
"Tut! he's always in earnest for as long as it lasts; go home to your family and to-morrow go about your business as usual."
Here the study bell rang violently and Old Hurricane's voice was heard calling, "Mrs. Condiment! Mrs. Condiment!"