And in the swamp Walter Skinner, who had finally extricated himself
from the mire, floundered about from bog to pool, and from pool to bog,
vowing vengeance on Humphrey, while Hugo and the faithful serving-man,
avoiding Gainsborough, pushed on toward Lincoln.
"I did dream of being taken by the constable," said Humphrey, "which
betokeneth want of wit. I know not what were better to do. What sayest
thou?" And he looked questioningly at Hugo.
The boy smiled. He could not help wondering if this were not the first
time in his life that Humphrey had acknowledged himself at a loss what
to do. A dream had caused him to doubt his own possession of sufficient
wit for all purposes,--something which no amount of argument could have
accomplished. But to-day Hugo felt no contempt for him. He smiled only
at the one weakness which was a foil to Humphrey's many excellent
qualities. And he said pleasantly, "Why, how now, Humphrey? Thou dost
need another dream to restore thy courage."
Humphrey eyed him doubtfully. "Dost think so, lad?" he said. "Mayhap
thou art right. But I go not in the lead till I have it.
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