"A long way off!" said the second traveller, as his new acquaintance gazed at him; "that is very unlucky; but all my stars are under that black cloud. What is to be done now, I wonder?" "What do you want to do?" inquired the first traveller. "Winchester is distant five and twenty miles or more." "Odds life! I want to find somewhere to lodge me and my horse for a night," replied the other, "at a less distance than twenty-five miles, and yet not quite upon this very spot." "Why not Andover?" asked his companion; "'tis but six miles, and I am going thither." "Humph!" said the stranger, in a tone not quite satisfied; "it must be so, if better cannot be found; and yet, my friend, I would fain find some other lodging. Is there no inn hard by, where carriers bait their beasts and fill their bellies, and country-folks carouse on nights of merry-making? or some old hall or goodly castle, where a truckle bed, or one of straw, a nunchion of bread and cheese, and a draught of ale, is not likely to be refused to a traveller with a good coat on his back and long-toed shoes?" "Oh, ay!" rejoined the first; "of the latter there are many round, but, on my life, it will be difficult to direct you to them. The men of this part have a fondness for crooked ways, and, unless you were the Dædalus who made them, or had some fair dame to guide you by the clue, you might wander about for as many hours as would take you to Winchester." "Then Andover it must be, I suppose," answered the other; "though, to say sooth, I may there have to pay for a frolic, the score of which might better be reckoned with other men than myself." "A frolic!" said his companion; "nothing more, my friend?" "No, on my life!" replied the other; "a scurvy frolic, such as only a fool would commit; but when a man has nothing else to do, he is sure to fall into folly, and I am idle perforce." "Well, I'll believe you," answered the first, after a moment's thought; "I have, thank Heaven, the gift of credulity, and believe all that men tell me. Come, I will turn back with you, and guide you to a place of rest, though I shall be well laughed at for my pains." "Not for an act of generous courtesy, surely," said the stranger, quitting the half-jesting tone in which he had hitherto spoken. "If they laugh at you for that, I care not to lodge with them, and will not put your kindness to the test, for I should look for a cold reception."