Chapter 40
Little thinking of the plan for his happy settlement in life which had suggested itself to the teeming brain of his provident commander, Hugh made no pause until Saint Dunstan's giants struck the hour above him, when he worked the handle of a pump which stood hard by, with great vigour, and thrusting his head under the spout, let the water gush upon him until a little stream ran down from every uncombed hair, and he was wet to the waist. Considerably refreshed by this ablution, both in mind and body, and almost sobered for the time, he dried himself as he best could; then crossed the road, and plied the knocker of the Middle Temple gate.
The night-porter looked through a small grating in the portal with a surly eye, and cried 'Halloa!' which greeting Hugh returned in kind, and bade him open quickly.
'We don't sell beer here,' cried the man; 'what else do you want?'
'To come in,' Hugh replied, with a kick at the door.
'Where to go?'
'Paper Buildings.'
'Whose chambers?'
'Sir John Chester's.' Each of which answers, he emphasised with another kick.
After a little growling on the other side, the gate was opened, and he passed in: undergoing a close inspection from the porter as he did so.
'YOU wanting Sir John, at this time of night!' said the man.
'Ay!' said Hugh. 'I! What of that?'
'Why, I must go with you and see that you do, for I don't believe it.'
Little thinking of the plan for his happy settlement in life which had suggested itself to the teeming brain of his provident commander, Hugh made no pause until Saint Dunstan's giants struck the hour above him, when he worked the handle of a pump which stood hard by, with great vigour, and thrusting his head under the spout, let the water gush upon him until a little stream ran down from every uncombed hair, and he was wet to the waist. Considerably refreshed by this ablution, both in mind and body, and almost sobered for the time, he dried himself as he best could; then crossed the road, and plied the knocker of the Middle Temple gate.
The night-porter looked through a small grating in the portal with a surly eye, and cried 'Halloa!' which greeting Hugh returned in kind, and bade him open quickly.
'We don't sell beer here,' cried the man; 'what else do you want?'
'To come in,' Hugh replied, with a kick at the door.
'Where to go?'
'Paper Buildings.'
'Whose chambers?'
'Sir John Chester's.' Each of which answers, he emphasised with another kick.
After a little growling on the other side, the gate was opened, and he passed in: undergoing a close inspection from the porter as he did so.
'YOU wanting Sir John, at this time of night!' said the man.
'Ay!' said Hugh. 'I! What of that?'
'Why, I must go with you and see that you do, for I don't believe it.'
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