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."