"I know it, my poor girl, and am ready to make every allowance," said the old pastor, with a deep sigh, not knowing what next to expect. "And--and--I hope you will forgive me, sir; but--but he was so handsome I couldn't help liking him!" "Miss Black!" cried the horrified pastor. "There! I knew you'd just go and bite my head off the very first thing! Oh, dear, what shall I do?" sobbed Capitola. The good pastor, who had started to his feet, remained gazing upon her in a panic of consternation, murmuring to himself: "Good angel! I am fated to hear more great sins than if I were a prison chaplain!" Then, going up to the sobbing delinquent he said: "Unhappy girl! who is this person of whom you speak?" "H--h--h--him that I met when I went walking in the woods," sobbed Capitola. "Heaven of heavens! this is worse than my very worst fears! Wretched girl! Tell me instantly the name of this base deceiver!" "He--he--he's no base deceiver; he--he--he's very amiable and good-looking; and--and--and that's why I liked him so much; it was all my fault, not his, poor, dear fellow!" "His name?" sternly demanded the pastor. "Alf--Alf--Alfred," wept Capitola. "Alfred whom?" "Alfred Blen--Blen--Blenheim!" "Miserable girl! how often have you met this miscreant in the forest?" "I--don't--know!" sobbed Capitola. "Where is the wretch to be found now?" "Oh, please don't hurt him, sir! Please don't! He--he--he's hid in the closet in my room." A groan that seemed to have rent his heart in twain burst from the bosom of the minister, as he repeated in deepest horror: "In your room! (Well, I must prevent murder being done!) Did you not know, you poor child, the danger you ran by giving this young man private interviews; and, above all, admitting him to your apartment? Wretched girl! better you'd never been born than ever so to have received a man!" "Man! man! man!--I'd like to know what you mean by that, Mr. Goodwin!" exclaimed Capitola, lifting her eyes flashing through their tears. "I mean the man with whom you have given these private interviews." "I!--I give private interviews to a man! Take care what you say, Mr. Goodwin; I won't be insulted; no, not even by you!" "Then, if you are not talking of a man, who or what in the world are you talking about?" exclaimed the amazed minister. "Why, Alfred, the Blenheim poodle that strayed away from some of the neighbors' houses, and that I found in the woods and brought home and hid in my closet, for fear he would be inquired after, or uncle would find it out and make me give him up. I knew it was wrong, but then he was so pretty----" Before Capitola had finished her speech Mr. Goodwin had seized his hat and rushed out of the house in indignation, nearly overturning Old Hurricane, whom he met on the lawn, and to whom he said: "Thrash that girl as if she were a bay boy, for she richly deserves it!"