"Why, then," said Capitola, speaking in a low, deep and measured tone, and keeping her gaze upon his astonished face, "the—first—time—I— should—find—you—asleep—I—would—take—a—razor—and——"
"Cut my throat! I feel you would, you terrible termagant!" shuddered Old Hurricane.
"Shave your beard off smick, smack, smoove!" said Cap, bounding off and laughing merrily as she ran out of the room.
In an instant she came bounding back, saying, "Uncle, I will meet you at the fair; au revoir, au revoir!" and, kissing her hand, she dashed away and ran off to her room.
"She'll kill me; I know she will. If she don't do it one way she will in another. Whew! I'm perspiring at every pore. Wool! Wool, you scoundrel!" exclaimed the old man, jerking the bell-rope as if he would have broken the wires.
"Yes, sir; here I am, marse," exclaimed that worthy, hastening in in a state of perturbation, for he dreaded another storm.
"Wool, go down to the stables and tell every man there that if either of them allows a horse to be brought out for the use of Miss Black to-day. I'll flay them alive and break every bone in their skins. Away with you."
"Yes, sir," cried the shocked and terrified Wool, hurrying off to convey his panic to the stables.
Old Hurricane's carriage being ready, he entered it and drove off for the fair.
Next the house servants, with the exception of Pitapat, who was commanded to remain behind and wait upon her mistress, went off in a wagon.