The traveller lost no time in getting out his horse and departing to

join his elvish guide, after half-forcing on the poor, deserted teacher

a recompense for the entertainment he had received, which partly allayed

that terror he had for facing the return of the old lady of the mansion.

Apparently this took place soon afterwards; for ere Tressilian and his

guide had proceeded far on their journey, they heard the screams of a

cracked female voice, intermingled with the classical objurgations of

Master Erasmus Holiday. But Dickie Sludge, equally deaf to the voice

of maternal tenderness and of magisterial authority, skipped on

unconsciously before Tressilian, only observing that "if they cried

themselves hoarse, they might go lick the honey-pot, for he had eaten up

all the honey-comb himself on yesterday even."




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