eyed, muttered to himself:

"Humph! If we took ole marse at his word, there'd never be man or 'oman
left on the 'state," knowing full well that his tempestuous old master
would probably forget all about it, as soon as he got comfortably
seated at the supper table of Hurricane Hall, toward which the old man
now trotted off.

Not a word did Major Warfield say at supper in regard to the new inmate
of the Hidden House, for he had particular reasons for keeping Cap in
ignorance of a neighbor, lest she should insist upon exchanging visits
and being "sociable."

But it was destined that Capitola should not remain a day in ignorance
of the interesting fact.

That night, when she retired to her chamber, Pitapat lingered behind,
but presently appeared at her young mistress's room door with a large
waiter on her head, laden with meat, pastry, jelly and fruit, which she
brought in and placed upon the work stand.

"Why, what on the face of earth do you mean by bringing all that load
of victuals into my room to-night? Do you think I am an ostrich or a
cormorant, or that I am going to entertain a party of friends?" asked
Capitola, in astonishment, turning from the wash stand, where she stood
bathing her face.

"'Deed I dunno, Miss, whedder you'se an ostrizant or not, but I knows I
don't 'tend for to be 'bused any more 'bout wittels, arter findin' out
how cross empty people can be! Dar dey is! You can eat um or leab um
alone, Miss Caterpillar!" said little Pitapat, firmly.

Capitola laughed. "Patty" she said, "you are worthy to be called my
waiting maid!"

"And Lors knows, Miss Caterpillar, if it was de wittels you was
a-frettin' arter, you ought to a-told me before! Lors knows dere's
wittels enough!"

"Yes, I'm much obliged to you, Patty, but now I am not hungry, and I do
not like the smell of food in my bedroom, so take the waiter out and
set it on the passage table until morning."

Patty obeyed, and came back smiling and saying:

"Miss Caterpillar, has you hern de news?"

"What news, Pat?"

"How us has got a new neighbor--a bootiful young gal--as bootiful as a
picter in a gilt-edged Christmas book--wid a snowy skin, and sky-blue
eyes and glistenin' goldy hair, like the princess you was a readin' me
about, all in deep mournin' and a weepin' and a weepin' all alone down
there in that wicked, lonesome, onlawful ole haunted place, the Hidden
House, along of old Colonel Le Noir and old Dorkey Knight, and the
ghost as dr