l you that we are going to have the awfulest storm that
ever gathered in the heavens! Why, look out of that window--the very
birds and beasts know it, and instinctively seek shelter--look at that
flock of crows flying home! See how the dumb beasts come trooping
toward their sheds! Capitola, you had better give up going altogether,
my dear!"

"There! I thought all this talk tended to keeping me within doors, but
I can't stay, Mrs. Condiment! Good Mrs. Condiment, I can't!"

"But, my dear, if you should be caught out in the storm!"

"Why, I don't know but I should like it! What harm could it do? I'm not
soluble in water--rain won't melt me away! I think upon the whole I
rather prefer being caught in the storm," said Cap, perversely.

"Well, well, there is no need of that! You may ride as far as the
river's bank and back again in time to escape, if you choose!" said
Mrs. Condiment, who saw that her troublesome charge was bent upon the
frolic.

And Cap, seeing her horse approach, led by one of the grooms, ran
up-stairs, donned her riding habit, hat and gloves, ran down again,
sprang into her saddle and was off, galloping away toward the river
before Mrs. Condiment could add another word of warning.

She had been gone about an hour, when the sky suddenly darkened, the
wind rose and the thunder rolled in prelude to the storm.

Major Warfield came skurrying home from the mill, grasping his bridle
with one hand and holding his hat on with the other.

Meeting poor old Ezy in the shrubbery, he stormed out upon him with:

"What are you lounging there for, you old idiot! You old sky-gazing
lunatic! Don't you see that we are going to have an awful blow! Begone
with you and see that the cattle are all under shelter! Off, I say,
or," he rode toward Bill Ezy, but the old man, exclaiming:

"Yes, sir--yes, sir! In coorse, sir!" ducked his head and ran off in
good time.

Major Warfield quickened his horse's steps and rode to the house,
dismounted and threw the reins to the stable boy, exclaiming:

"My beast is dripping with perspiration--rub him down well you knave,
or I'll impale you!"

Striding into the hall, he threw down his riding whip, pulled off his
gloves and called:

"Wool! Wool, you scoundrel, close every door and window in the house!
Call all the servants together in the dining-room; we're going to have
one of the worst tempests that ever raised!"

Wool flew to do his bidding.

"Mrs. Condiment, mum," said the