that I have waited here so patiently the whole of this day to see a friend who promised to meet me; but who has made me wait long enough in vain.”
“No offence, Sir,” said the old man; “but such a friend, whosoever he be, is no better than a scoundrel, to think of making a fool of you. I would make him feel the weight of my crutch, had he ventured to treat me so. Why not send you word, if something prevented him from coming, instead of treating you like a school lad?”
“Yet,” said Frank, “I ought not to condemn him: he did not exactly promise; it was in a dream that he told me to wait for him.” For Frank thought that it would be too tedious to relate the ghost’s story, so he turned it into a dream.”
“That is quite another thing,” cried the old man: “I don’t wonder you should be served thus, if you believe in dreams. Many mad ones have I had in my life, but I never was so mad as to give any credit to them. If I had now all the money which has been promised me in dreams, I think I might buy the whole city of Bremen; but I never stirred a hand to inquire into the truth of them, for I knew that it must be all labour lost. Forgive me, but I could almost laugh in your face;—to think of spending a good summer’s day here for the sake of a dream, while you might have been passing your time merrily with your friends.”
