Let's go to jail."
On the Mayor's orders, mine host despoiled me of the sergeant's tuck, and
Timothy marched me off to the jail, the rabble following, as full of
chatter as a nest of magpies. The jail was a small stone building,
standing, like the town hall, in the middle of the street. Arrived there,
Timothy thrust me into an ill-lit dirty hole below the level of the
street, locked the door behind me, and left me to my reflections.
The only furniture of the den was a rude bench. A nap would do me good,
so, after a good pull at Kate's precious cordial, I curled up on the bench
and in a few minutes was sound asleep. And in my sleep I dreamed that two
blue stars were twinkling at me through a golden cloud.
CHAPTER XII
THE GUEST-ROOM OF THE "RISING SUN"
A wisp of cloud, a long trail of shimmering gold, broke loose, swept with
the touch of softest silk across my cheek, and half awakened me. I was
lazily and sleepily regretting that such caresses only came in dreams,
when I was brought sharply back to full life by a ripple of hearty
laughter.
"Gloat on!" said I complacently.
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