"Indeed, I'm sure if I'd known it was Black Donald, I'd no more have

suffered him inside of my tent than I would Satan!"

"Demmy, mum, you had Satan there as well! Who but Satan could have

tempted you all to disregard me, your lawful lord and master, as you

every one of you did for that wretch's sake! Hang it, parson, I wasn't

the master of my own house, nor head of my own family! Precious Father

Gray was! Black Donald was! Oh, you shall hear!" cried Old Hurricane,

in a frenzy.

"Pray, sir, be patient and do not blame the women for being no wiser

than you were yourself," said Mr. Goodwin.

"Tah! tah! tah! One act of folly is a contingency to which any man may

for once in his life be liable; but folly is the women's normal condition!

You shall hear! You shall hear! Hang it, sir, everybody had to give way

to Father Gray! Everything was for Father Gray! Precious Father Gray!

Excellent Father Gray! Saintly Father Gray! It was Father Gray here and

Father Gray there, and Father Gray everywhere and always! He ate with

us all day and slept with us all night! The coolest cot in the dryest

nook of the tent at night--the shadiest seat at the table by day--were

always for his reverence! The nicest tit-bits of the choicest dishes--the

middle slices of the fish, the breast of the young ducks, and the wings

of the chickens, the mealiest potatoes, the juiciest tomatoes, the

tenderest roasting ear, the most delicate custard, and freshest fruit

always for his reverence! I had to put up with the necks of poultry,

and the tails of fishes, watery potatoes, specked apples and scorched

custards--and if I dared to touch anything better before his precious

reverence had eaten and was filled, Mrs. Condiment--there--would look

as sour as if she had bitten an unripe lemon--and Cap would tread on my

gouty toe! Mrs. Condiment, mum, I don't know how you can look me in the

face!" said Old Hurricane, savagely. A very unnecessary reproach, since

poor Mrs. Condiment had not ventured to look any one in the face since

the discovery of the fraud of which she, as well as others, had been an

innocent victim.

"Come, come, my dear major, there is no harm done to you or your

family; therefore, take patience!" said Mr. Goodwin.

"Demmy, sir, I beg you pardon, parson, I won't take patience! You don't

know! Hang it, man, at last they got me to give up one-half of my own

blessed bed to his precious reverence--the best half which the fellow

always took right out of the middle, leaving me to sleep on both sides

of him, if I could! Think of it--me, Ira Warfield--sleeping between the

sheets--night after night--with Black Donald! Ugh! ugh! ugh! Oh, for

some lethean draught that I might drink and forget! Sir, I won't be

patient! Patience would be a sin! Mrs. Condiment, mum, I desire that

you will send in your account and supply yourself with a new situation!

You and I cannot agree any longer. You'll be putting me to bed with

Beelzebub next!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, besides himself with

indignation.




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