'Gone out a walking, maybe?'

'He has changed shadows with a woman,' the idiot whispered in his ear,
and then fell back with a look of triumph. 'Her shadow's always with
him, and his with her. That's sport I think, eh?'

'Barnaby,' said the locksmith, with a grave look; 'come hither, lad.'

'I know what you want to say. I know!' he replied, keeping away from
him. 'But I'm cunning, I'm silent. I only say so much to you--are you
ready?' As he spoke, he caught up the light, and waved it with a wild
laugh above his head.

'Softly--gently,' said the locksmith, exerting all his influence to keep
him calm and quiet. 'I thought you had been asleep.'

'So I HAVE been asleep,' he rejoined, with widely-opened eyes. 'There
have been great faces coming and going--close to my face, and then a
mile away--low places to creep through, whether I would or no--high
churches to fall down from--strange creatures crowded up together neck
and heels, to sit upon the bed--that's sleep, eh?'

'Dreams, Barnaby, dreams,' said the locksmith.

'Dreams!' he echoed softly, drawing closer to him. 'Those are not
dreams.'

'What are,' replied the locksmith, 'if they are not?'