s often for the very reason
that she was forbidden. What the demon shall I do? Wool! Wool! you
brimstone villain, come here!" he roared, going to the bell-rope and
pulling it until he broke it down.

Wool ran in with his hair bristling, his teeth chattering and his eyes
starting.

"Come here to me, you varlet! Now, listen: You are to keep a sharp
look-out after your young mistress. Whenever she rides abroad you are
to mount a horse and ride after her, and keep your eyes open, for if
you once lose sight of her, you knave, do you know what I shall do to
you, eh?"

"N--no, marse," stammered Wool, pale with apprehension.

"I should cut your eyelids off to improve your vision! Look to it, sir,
for I shall keep my word! And now come and help me to dress," concluded
Old Hurricane.

Wool, with chattering teeth, shaking knees and trembling fingers,
assisted his master in his morning toilet, meditating the while whether
it were not better to avoid impending dangers by running away.

And, in fact, between his master and his mistress, Wool had a hot time
of it. The weather, after the storm had cleared the atmosphere, was
delightful, and Cap rode out that very day. Poor Wool kept his eyeballs
metaphorically "skinned," for fear they should be treated literally
so--held his eyes wide open, lest Old Hurricane should keep his word
and make it impossible for him ever to shut them.

When Cap stole out, mounted her horse and rode away, in five minutes
from the moment of starting she heard a horse's hoofs behind her, and
presently saw Wool gallop to her side.

At first Cap bore this good-humoredly enough, only saying:

"Go home, Wool, I don't want you; I had much rather ride alone."

To which the groom replied:

"It is old marse's orders, miss, as I should wait on you."

Capitola's spirit rebelled against this; and, suddenly turning upon her
attendant, she indignantly exclaimed:

"Wool, I don't want you, sir; I insist upon being left alone, and I
order you to go home, sir!"

Upon this Wool burst into tears and roared.

Much surprised, Capitola inquired of him what the matter was.

For some time Wool could only reply by sobbing, but when he was able to
articulate he blubbered forth:

"It's nuf to make anybody go put his head under a meat-ax, so it is!"

"What is the matter, Wool?" again inquired Capitola.

"How'd you like to have your eyelids cut off?" howled Wool,
indignantly.

"What?" inquired Capitola.

"Yes; I