“What a brilliant idea!” exclaimed the Baron. “And that reminds me that you must of course take your seven-league boots.”
“But I have only one pair, and if I put them on I shall be unable to help running away from you, and we could no longer be called travelling companions.”
“Ah, yes, I foresaw that difficulty from the first,” observed the Baron. “But, my dear Funnibos, I never allow difficulties to stand in my way. I’ve thought of a plan to overcome that one. You shall wear one boot and I’ll wear the other, then hand in hand we’ll go along across the country almost as fast as you would alone.”
“Much faster—for I should to a certainty lose my way, or stick in a quagmire,” observed the Count.
“Then all our arrangements are made,” said the Baron. “I’ll see about any other trifles we may require. Now let us pack up.”
“You have forgotten my ties,” observed the Count.
“Ah, yes, so I had,” observed the Baron, and he hurried off to the laundress for them. He soon returned, and the valises being filled and strapped up, the Baron tucked one under each arm.
“Stop,” said the Count, “I must give directions to my housekeeper about the management of my castle and estates during my absence.”
“Tell her to bolt the windows and lock all the doors of the castle, so that no one can get in; and as for the estates, they won’t run away,” said the Baron.
“Thank you for the bright idea; I’ll act upon it,” answered the Count. “Still, people do lose their estates in some way or other. How is that?”