"Shut the door, you villain! Do you intend to stand there holding it open on me all night?" vociferated the old man.
Wool hastily closed the offending portals and hurried to his master's side.
"Well, sir, who was it rung the bell?"
"Please, marster, sir, it wer' de Reverend Mr. Parson Goodwin."
"Goodwin? Been to make a sick-call, I suppose, and got caught in the snow-storm. I declare it is as bad to be a parson as it is to be a doctor. Thank the Lord I am not a parson, either; if I were, now, I might be called away from my cozy armchair and fireside to ride twelve miles to comfort some old man dying of quinsy. Well, here—help me into bed, pile on more comforters, tuck me up warm, put a bottle of hot water at my feet, and then go and attend to the parson," said the old man, getting up and moving toward his inviting couch.
"Sar! sar! stop, sar, if you please!" cried Wool, going after him.
"Why, what does the old fool mean?" exclaimed Old Hurricane, angrily.
"Sar, de Reverend Mr. Parson Goodwin say how he must see you yourself, personable, alone!"
"See me, you villain! Didn't you tell him that I had retired?"
"Yes, marse; I tell him how you wer' gone to bed and asleep more'n an hour ago, and he ordered me to come wake you up, and say how it were a matter o' life and death!"