"It's not far, so let's walk," young Farmer said. "It will be like old times, perhaps."
"Okay, Grandpa!" Dawson laughed. "But watch your step, and don't trip over your beard. And by all means, don't let us get lost, see?"
"Lost?" Freddy Farmer snorted. "Why, you could dump me down in any part of London, and I'd—"
"Which might not be such a bad idea at that!" Dawson chuckled. "Okay, my handsome guide, let's get going."
Keeping close to each other, they strolled up the Strand toward Aldwych Circle and Kingsway. They took their time, which was the best thing to do in London's blackout. Time and time again they almost bumped into persons coming their way. And more than once their teeth clicked as they went down off a curbstone they didn't see until too late. Eventually, though, they turned into Kingsway and started along toward High Holborn where the theater was located.
After a couple of blocks, however, they ran into a detour. And after a block or so the detour ran into another detour. And some ten minutes after that Dawson nudged his shoulder against Freddy Farmer's.
"I don't want to imply anything, kind sir," he said, "but you do happen to know where the heck we are, don't you?"
"Of course!" the English youth snapped. "This is Serle Street close by Lincoln's Fields. Second right and then first left will bring us right out on High Holborn at Chancery Lane."
"Well, all those names make it sound as if you knew what you're talking about," Dawson murmured.
"Don't be silly!" Freddy snapped. "Would you get lost in a blackout in your precious New York?"