edly," answered the magistrate, with the manner of one glad to be
rid of the charge.

"Then, sir, I, Ira Warfield, of Hurricane Hall, in Virginia, present
myself as the guardian of this girl, Capitola Black, whom I claim as my
ward. And I will enter into a recognizance for any sum to appear and
prove my right if it should be disputed. For my personal responsibility,
sir, I refer you to the proprietors of the Astor, who have known me many
years."

"It is not necessary, Major Warfield; we assume the fact of your
responsibility and deliver up the young girl to your charge."

"I thank you, sir," said Old Hurricane, bowing low. Then hurrying across
the room where sat the reporters for the press he said:

"Gentlemen, I have a favor to ask of you; it is that you will altogether
drop this case of the boy in girl's clothes--I mean the girl in girl's
clothes--I declare I don't know what I mean; nor I shan't, neither,
until I see the creature in its proper dress, but this I wish to request
of you, gentlemen, that you will drop that item from your report, or if
you must mention it, treat it with delicacy, as the good name of a young
lady is involved."

The reporters, with sidelong glances, winks and smiles, gave him the
required promise, and Old Hurricane returned to the side of his
protegee.

"Capitola, are you willing to go with me?"

"Jolly willing, governor."

"Then come along; my cab is waiting," said Old Hurricane, and, bowing to
the court, he took the hand of his charge and led her forth, amid the
ill-suppressed jibes of the crowd.

"There's a hoary-headed old sinner!" said one.

"She's as like him as two peas," quoth another.

"Wonder if there's any more belonging to him of the same sort?" inquired
a third.

Leaving all the sarcasm behind him, Old Hurricane handed his protegee
into the cab, took the seat beside her and gave orders to be driven out
toward Harlem.

As soon as they were seated in the cab the old man turned to his charge
and said:

"Capitola, I shall have to trust to your girl's wit to get yourself into
your proper clothes again without exciting further notice."

"Yes, governor."

"My boy--girl, I mean--I am not the governor of Virginia, though if
every one had his rights I don't know but I should be. However, I am
only Major Warfield," said the old man, naively, for he had not the most
distant idea that the title bestowed on him by Capitola was a mere
remnant of her newsboys "slang."

"