er own sacred cot, and set my niece
to bathing his head with cologne and her maid to fanning him, while she
herself prepared an iced sherry cobbler for his reverence! Aren't you
ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Condiment, mum!" said Old Hurricane, suddenly
stopping before the poor old woman, in angry scorn.

"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