Capitola "pulled up" in her striding walk, wheeled around, faced him, drew up her form, folded her arms, threw back her head, set her teeth and glared at him.
"What the demon do you mean by that?" cried Old Hurricane.
"Sir!" she exclaimed, bringing down one foot with a sharp stamp; "sir! how dare you have the impudence to face me? much less the—the—the—the brass! the bronze! the copper! to speak to me!"
"Why, what in the name of all the lunatics in Bedlam does the girl mean? Is she crazy?" exclaimed the old man, gazing upon her in astonishment.
Capitola turned and strode furiously up and down the piazza, and then, stopping suddenly and facing him, with a sharp stamp of her foot exclaimed:
"Old gentleman! Tell me instantly and without prevarication, where have you been?"
"To the demon with you! What do you mean? Have you taken leave of your senses?" demanded Old Hurricane.
Capitola strode up and down the floor a few times, and, stopping short and shaking her fist, exclaimed:
"Didn't you know, you headstrong, reckless, desperate, frantic veteran—didn't you know the jeopardy in which you placed yourself in riding out alone at this hour? Suppose three or four great runaway negresses had sprung out of the bushes and—and—and——" She broke off apparently for want of breath, and strode up and down the floor; then, pausing suddenly before him, with a stern stamp of her foot and a fierce glare of her eye, she continued:
"You shouldn't have come back here any more! No dishonored old man should have entered the house of which I call myself the mistress!"