‘In Rome perhaps?’ said he.
‘Yes, in Rome,’ I answered; ‘or Piccy-the-other-place, or somewhere.’
‘Or else,’ said he, ‘in that other city—when we’ve found the way there. And I’ll look out for you, and you’ll sing out as soon as you see me. And we’ll go down the street arm-in-arm, and into all the shops, and then I’ll choose my house, and you’ll choose your house, and we’ll live there like princes and good fellows.’
‘O, but you’ll stay in my house, won’t you?’ I cried; ‘I wouldn’t ask everybody; but I’ll ask you.’
He affected to consider a moment; then ‘Right!’ he said: ‘I believe you mean it, and I will come and stay with you. I won’t go to anybody else, if they ask me ever so much. And I’ll stay quite a long time, too, and I won’t be any trouble.’
Upon this compact we parted, and I went down-heartedly from the man who understood me, back to the house where I never could do anything right. How was it that everything seemed natural and sensible to him, which these uncles, vicars, and other grown-up men took for the merest tomfoolery? Well, he would explain this, and many another thing, when we met again. The Knights’ Road! How it always brought consolation! Was he possibly one of those vanished knights I had been looking for so long? Perhaps he would be in armour next time—why not? He would look well in armour, I thought. And I would take care to get there first, and see the sunlight flash and play on his helmet and shield, as he rode up the High Street of the Golden City.
Meantime, there only remained the finding it. An easy matter.
