"I mean the man with whom you have given these private interviews."
"I!—I give private interviews to a man! Take care what you say, Mr. Goodwin; I won't be insulted; no, not even by you!"
"Then, if you are not talking of a man, who or what in the world are you talking about?" exclaimed the amazed minister.
"Why, Alfred, the Blenheim poodle that strayed away from some of the neighbors' houses, and that I found in the woods and brought home and hid in my closet, for fear he would be inquired after, or uncle would find it out and make me give him up. I knew it was wrong, but then he was so pretty——"
Before Capitola had finished her speech Mr. Goodwin had seized his hat and rushed out of the house in indignation, nearly overturning Old Hurricane, whom he met on the lawn, and to whom he said:
"Thrash that girl as if she were a bay boy, for she richly deserves it!"
"There! what did I say? Now you see what a time I have with her; she makes me sweat, I can tell you," said Old Hurricane, in triumph.
"Oh! oh! oh!" groaned the sorely-tried minister.
"What's it now?" inquired Old Hurricane.
The pastor took the major's arm and, while they walked up and down before the house, told how he had been "sold" by Capitola, ending by saying: