John Stone joined Old Hurricane in many a hard day's hunt, and Capitola

was often of the party.

Edwin Percy spent many hours on the luxurious lounge in the parlor,

where Cap was careful to place a stand with chocolate, cigars, wax

matches and his favorite books.

One day Cap had had what she called "a row with the governor," that is

to say, a slight misunderstanding with Major Warfield; a very uncommon

occurrence, as the reader knows, in which that temperate old gentleman

had so freely bestowed upon his niece the names of "beggar, foundling,

brat, vagabond and vagrant," that Capitola, in just indignation,

refused to join the birding party, and taking her game bag, powder

flask, shot-horn and fowling piece, and calling her favorite pointer,

walked off, as she termed it, "to shoot herself." But if Capitola's by

no means sweet temper had been tried that morning, it was destined to

be still more severely tested before the day was over.

Her second provocation came in this way: John Stone, another deserter

of the birding party had that day betaken himself to Tip-top upon some

private business of his own. He dined at the Antlers in company with

some sporting gentlemen of the neighborhood, and when the conversation

naturally turned upon field sports, Mr. John Stone spoke of the fine

shooting that was to be had around Hurricane Hall, when one of the

gentlemen, looking straight across the table to Mr. Stone, said: "Ahem! That pretty little huntress of Hurricane Hall--that niece or

ward, or mysterious daughter of Old Hurricane, who engages with so much

enthusiasm in your field sports over there, is a girl of very free and

easy manners I understand--a Diana in nothing but her love of the

chase!"

"Sir, it is a base calumny! And the man who endorses it is a shameless

slanderer! There is my card! I may be found at my present residence,

Hurricane Hall," said John Stone, throwing his pasteboard across the

table, and rising to leave it.

"Nay, nay," said the stranger, laughing and pushing the card away. "I

do not endorse the statement--I know nothing about it! I wash my hands

of it," said the young man. And then upon Mr. Stone's demanding the

author of the calumny, he gave the name of Mr. Craven Le Noir, who, he

said, had "talked in his cups," at a dinner party recently given by one

of his friends.

"I pronounce--publicly, in the presence of all these witnesses, as I

shall presently to Craven Le Noir himself--that he is a shameless

miscreant, who has basely slandered a noble girl! You, sir, have

declined to endorse those words; henceforth decline to repeat them! For

after this I shall call to a severe account any man who ventures, by

word, gesture or glance to hint this slander, or in any other way deal

lightly with the honorable name and fame of the lady in question.

Gentlemen, I am to be found at Hurricane Hall, and I have the honor of

wishing you a more improving subject of conversation, and--a very good

afternoon," said John Stone, bowing and leaving the room.




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