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Page 61:-
... the wise donkey was at that moment in the act of
bolting; not with the irresolution of his previous efforts
which had been wanting in sustained force of character, but
with real vigour of purpose: shaking the dust off his mane
and hind-feet at Allonby, and tearing away from it, as if he
had nobly made up his mind that he never would be taken
alive. At the sight of this inspiring spectacle, which was
visible from his sofa, Thomas Idle stretched his neck and
dwelt upon it rapturously.
"Francis Goodchild," he then said, turning to his companion
with a solemn air, "this is a delightful little Inn,
excellently kept by the most comfortable of landladies and
the most attentive of landlords, but - the donkey's right!"
The words, "There is the sea - and here are the -," again
trembled on the lips of Goodchild, unaccompanied however by
any sound.
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"Let us instantly pack the portmanteaus," said Thomas Idle,
"pay the bill, and order the fly out, with instructions to
the driver to follow the donkey!"
Mr.Goodchild who had only wanted encouragement to disclose
the real state of his feelings, and who had been pining
beneath his weary secret, now burst into tears, and
confessed that he thought another day in the place would be
the death of him.
So, the two idle apprentices followed the donkey until night
was far advanced. Whether he was recaptured by the
town-council, or is bolting at this hour through the United
Kingdom, they know not. They hope he may still be bolting;
if so, their best wishes are with him.
It entered Mr. Idle's head, on the borders of Cumberland,
that there could be no idler place to stay at, except by
snatches of a few minutes each, than a railway station. "An
intermediate station on a line - a junction - anything of
that sort," Thomas suggested. Mr. Goodchild approved of the
idea as eccentric, and they journeyed on and on, until they
came to such a station where there was an Inn.
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