He might marry Miggs, if
he was drunk enough. It shall be done. I'll make a note of it.'
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.
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