And
that thou wilt find when thou hast lived to be forty years old. But
thou art but fourteen, and I am foolish to be angered with thee for
what is, after all, but lack of experience. How soon come we to this
St. Albans?"
"Why, it is but thirteen miles from Dunstable," answered Hugo,
pleasantly.
"Then may we pass it by without stopping," cried Humphrey, joyfully.
"And how much farther on lieth London?"
"Twenty miles," replied Hugo.
"Then do we rest in London to-night, if we may," said Humphrey. "Our
horses be not of the best, but neither are they of the worst; and it
were an ill beast that could not go thirty-three miles before sunset on
the Watling Street."
"Ay," agreed Hugo. "But we may not ride too fast, else shall we arouse
wonder."
Humphrey sighed. "Thou art right, lad," he said. "And wonder might lead
to questions, and questions to a stopping of our journey. For how know
I what answer to make to questions that I be not looking for? I will
therefore go more slowly."
The road was now by no means empty of passengers. Trains of packhorses
were going down to London.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265