"A secret, fool, which, if you get your peach to tell, will be worth much to you. And as you and I are going to keep our own counsel, learn from me that this secret has but one of two kernels. Love or jealousy. Set your wits at work, Fritz, set your wits at work, and keep your eyes open. I may help you to your peach, fool. And now about that dream of yours. Were you asleep or awake at the time?"
Fritz stepped cautiously to the door, opened it, looked along the passage, closed the door, and came close to the bedside.
"Master Lamont," he said, "what I dreamt is something so strange that it will take a great deal of thinking over. Do you know why I tell you things?"
"I might guess wrong, Fritz. Save me the trouble."
"You have never been but one way with me; you have never given me a hard word; you have never given me a blow. When I was a boy--twenty years ago and more, Master Lamont--you were the only man who spoke kind words to me, who used to pat my head and pity me. For, if you remember, Master Lamont, I was nothing but a castaway, living on charity, and everybody but you made me feel it. Cuffed by this one and that one, kicked, and laughed at--but never by you. Even a fool can bear these things in mind."
"Well, well, Fritz, go on with your dream. You are making me hungry."
