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diff --git a/3474-h/3474-h.htm b/3474-h/3474-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07681b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/3474-h/3474-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11396 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Jeremy, by Hugh Walpole + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jeremy, by Hugh Walpole + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jeremy + +Author: Hugh Walpole + +Release Date: February 5, 2009 [EBook #3474] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEREMY *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks, the Online Distributed Proofreading Team, +and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + JEREMY + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Hugh Walpole + </h2> + <h4> + TO<br /> <br /> BRUCE<br /> <br /> FROM<br /> HIS LOVING UNCLE + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE BIRTHDAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FAMILY DOG + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + CHRISTMAS PANTOMIME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + MISS JONES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SEA-CAPTAIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + FAMILY PRIDE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + RELIGION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + TO COW FARM! + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE AWAKENING OF CHARLOTTE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MERRY-GO-ROUND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + HAMLET WAITS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “It is due to him to say that he was + an obedient boy and a boy whose word + could be depended on...” + + Jackanapes +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE BIRTHDAY + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + About thirty years ago there was at the top of the right-hand side of + Orange Street, in Polchester, a large stone house. I say “was”; the shell + of it is still there, and the people who now live in it are quite unaware, + I suppose, that anything has happened to the inside of it, except that + they are certainly assured that their furniture is vastly superior to the + furniture of their predecessors. They have a gramophone, a pianola, and a + lift to bring the plates from the kitchen into the dining-room, and a + small motor garage at the back where the old pump used to be, and a very + modern rock garden where once was the pond with the fountain that never + worked. Let them cherish their satisfaction. No one grudges it to them. + The Coles were, by modern standards, old-fashioned people, and the Stone + House was an old-fashioned house. + </p> + <p> + Young Jeremy Cole was born there in the year 1884, very early in the + morning of December 8th. He was still there very early in the morning of + December 8th, 1892. He was sitting up in bed. The cuckoo clock had just + struck five, and he was aware that he was, at this very moment, for the + first time in his life, eight years old. He had gone to bed at eight + o'clock on the preceding evening with the choking consciousness that he + would awake in the morning a different creature. Although he had slept, + there had permeated the texture of his dreams that same choking + excitement, and now, wide awake, as though he had asked the cuckoo to call + him in order that he might not be late for the great occasion, he stared + into the black distance of his bedroom and reflected, with a beating + heart, upon the great event. He was eight years old, and he had as much + right now to the nursery arm-chair with a hole in it as Helen had. + </p> + <p> + That was his first definite realisation of approaching triumph. Throughout + the whole of his seventh year he had fought with Helen, who was most + unjustly a year older than he and persistently proud of that injustice, as + to his right to use the wicker arm-chair whensoever it pleased him. So + destructive of the general peace of the house had these incessant battles + been, so unavailing the suggestions of elderly relations that gentlemen + always yielded to ladies, that a compromise had been arrived at. When + Jeremy was eight he should have equal rights with Helen. Well and good. + Jeremy had yielded to that. It was the only decent chair in the nursery. + Into the place where the wicker, yielding to rude and impulsive pressure, + had fallen away, one's body might be most happily fitted. It was of + exactly the right height; it made the handsomest creaking noises when one + rocked in it—and, in any case, Helen was only a girl. + </p> + <p> + But the sense of his triumph had not yet fully descended upon him. As he + sat up in bed, yawning, with a tickle in the middle of his back and his + throat very dry; he was disappointingly aware that he was still the same + Jeremy of yesterday. He did not know what it was exactly that he had + expected, but he did not feel at present that confident proud glory for + which he had been prepared. Perhaps it was too early. + </p> + <p> + He turned round, curled his head into his arm, and with a half-muttered, + half-dreamt statement about the wicker chair, he was once again asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + He awoke to the customary sound of the bath water running into the bath. + His room was flooded with sunshine, and old Jampot, the nurse (her name + was Mrs. Preston and her shape was Jampot), was saying as usual: “Now, + Master Jeremy, eight o'clock; no lying in bed—out—you get—bath—ready.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her, blinking. + </p> + <p> + “You should say 'Many Happy Returns of the Day, Master Jeremy,'” he + remarked. Then suddenly, with a leap, he was out of bed, had crossed the + floor, pushed back the nursery door, and was sitting in the wicker + arm-chair, his naked feet kicking a triumphant dance. + </p> + <p> + “Helen! Helen!” he called. “I'm in the chair.” + </p> + <p> + No sound. + </p> + <p> + “I'm eight,” he shouted, “and I'm in the chair.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Preston, breathless and exclaiming, hurried across to him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you naughty boy... death of cold... in your nightshirt.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm eight,” he said, looking at her scornfully, “and I can sit here as + long as I please.” + </p> + <p> + Helen, her pigtails flapping on either shoulder, her nose red, as it + always was early in the morning, appeared at the opposite end of the + nursery. + </p> + <p> + “Nurse, he mustn't, must he? Tell him not to. I don't care how old you + are. It's my chair. Mother said—” + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't. Mother said—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she did. Mother said—” + </p> + <p> + “Mother said that when—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you story. You know that Mother said—” Then suddenly a new, + stiffening, trusting dignity filled him, as though he had with a turn of + the head discovered himself in golden armour. + </p> + <p> + He was above this vulgar wrangling now. That was for girls. He was + superior to them all. He got down from the chair and stood, his head up, + on the old Turkey rug (red with yellow cockatoos) in front of the roaring + fire. + </p> + <p> + “You may have your old chair,” he said to Helen. “I'm eight now, and I + don't want it any more... although if I do want it I shall have it,” he + added. + </p> + <p> + He was a small, square boy with a pug-nosed face. His hair was light + brown, thin and stiff, so that it was difficult to brush, and although you + watered it, stood up in unexpected places and stared at you. His eyes were + good, dark brown and large, but he was in no way handsome; his neck, his + nose ridiculous. His mouth was too large, and his chin stuck out like a + hammer. + </p> + <p> + He was, plainly, obstinate and possibly sulky, although when he smiled his + whole face was lighted with humour. Helen was the only beautiful Cole + child, and she was abundantly aware of that fact. The Coles had never been + a good-looking family. + </p> + <p> + He stood in front of the fireplace now as he had seen his father do, his + short legs apart, his head up, and his hands behind his back. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Master Jeremy,” the Jampot continued, “you may be eight years old, + but it isn't a reason for disobedience the very first minute, and, of + course, your bath is ready and you catching your death with naked feet, + which you've always been told to put your slippers on and not to keep the + bath waiting, when there's Miss Helen and Miss Mary, as you very well + know, and breakfast coming in five minutes, which there's sausages this + morning, because it's your birthday, and them all getting cold—” + </p> + <p> + “Sausages!” + </p> + <p> + He was across the floor in a moment, had thrown off his nightshirt and was + in his bath. Sausages! He was translated into a world of excitement and + splendour. They had sausages so seldom, not always even on birthdays, and + to-day, on a cold morning, with a crackling fire and marmalade, perhaps—and + then all the presents. + </p> + <p> + Oh, he was happy. As he rubbed his back with the towel a wonderful glowing + Christian charity spread from his head to his toes and tingled through + every inch of him. Helen should sit in the chair when she pleased; Mary + should be allowed to dress and undress the large woollen dog, known as + “Sulks,” his own especial and beloved property, so often as she wished; + Jampot should poke the twisted end of the towel in his ears and brush his + hair with the hard brushes, and he would not say a word. Aunt Mary should + kiss him (as, of course, she would want to do), and he would not shiver; + he would (bravest deed of all) allow Mary to read “Alice in Wonderland” in + her sing-sing voice so long as ever she wanted... Sausages! Sausages! + </p> + <p> + In his shirt and his short blue trousers, his hair on end, tugging at his + braces, he stood in the doorway and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Helen, there are sausages—because it's my birthday. Aren't you + glad?” + </p> + <p> + And even when the only response to his joyous invitation was Helen's voice + crossly admonishing the Jampot: “Oh, you do pull so; you're hurting!”—his + charity was not checked. + </p> + <p> + Then when he stood clothed and of a cheerful mind once more in front of + the fire a shyness stole over him. He knew that the moment for Presents + was approaching; he knew that very shortly he would have to kiss and be + kissed by a multitude of persons, that he would have to say again and + again, “Oh, thank you, thank you so much!” that he would have his usual + consciousness of his inability to thank anybody at all in the way that + they expected to be thanked. Helen and Mary never worried about such + things. They delighted in kissing and hugging and multitudes of words. If + only he might have had his presents by himself and then stolen out and + said “Thank you” to the lot of them and have done with it. + </p> + <p> + He watched the breakfast-table with increasing satisfaction—the + large teapot with the red roses, the dark blue porridge plates, the glass + jar with the marmalade a rich yellow inside it, the huge loaf with the + soft pieces bursting out between the crusty pieces, the solid square of + butter, so beautiful a colour and marked with a large cow and a tree on + the top (he had seen once in the kitchen the wooden shape with which the + cook made this handsome thing). There were also his own silver mug, given + him at his christening by Canon Trenchard, his godfather, and his silver + spoon, given him on the same occasion by Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + All these things glittered and glowed in the firelight, and a kettle was + singing on the hob and Martha the canary was singing in her cage in the + window. (No one really knew whether the canary were a lady or a gentleman, + but the name had been Martha after a beloved housemaid, now married to the + gardener, and the sex had followed the name.) + </p> + <p> + There were also all the other familiar nursery things. The hole in the + Turkey carpet near the bookcase, the rocking-horse, very shiny where you + sit and very Christmas-tree-like as to its tail; the doll's house, now + deserted, because Helen was too old and Mary too clever; the pictures of + “Church on Christmas Morning” (everyone with their mouths very wide open, + singing a Christmas hymn, with holly), “Dignity and Impudence,” after + Landseer, “The Shepherds and the Angels,” and “The Charge of the Light + Brigade.” So packed was the nursery with history for Jeremy that it would + have taken quite a week to relate it all. There was the spot where he had + bitten the Jampot's fingers, for which deed he had afterwards been + slippered by his father; there the corner where they stood for punishment + (he knew exactly how many ships with sails, how many ridges of waves, and + how many setting suns there were on that especial piece of corner + wallpaper—three ships, twelve ridges, two and a half suns); there + was the place where he had broken the ink bottle over his shoes and the + carpet, there by the window, where Mary had read to him once when he had + toothache, and he had not known whether her reading or the toothache + agonised him the more; and so on, an endless sequence of sensational + history. + </p> + <p> + His reminiscences were cut short by the appearance of Gladys with the + porridge. Gladys, who was only the between-maid, but was nevertheless + stout, breathless from her climb and the sentiment of the occasion, + produced from a deep pocket a dirty envelope, which she laid upon the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Many 'appy returns, Master Jeremy.” Giggle... giggle... “Lord save us if + I 'aven't gone and forgotten they spunes,” and she vanished. The + present-giving had begun. + </p> + <p> + He had an instant's struggle as to whether it were better to wait until + all the presents had accumulated, or whether he would take them separately + as they arrived. The dirty envelope lured him. He advanced towards it and + seized it. He could not read very easily the sprawling writing on the + cover, but he guessed that it said “From Gladys to Master Jeremy.” Within + was a marvellous card, tied together with glistening cord and shining with + all the colours of the rainbow. It was apparently a survival from last + Christmas, as there was a church in snow and a peal of bells; he was, + nevertheless, very happy to have it. + </p> + <p> + After his introduction events moved swiftly. First Helen and Mary + appeared, their faces shining and solemn and mysterious—Helen + self-conscious and Mary staring through her spectacles like a profound + owl. + </p> + <p> + Because Jeremy had known Mary ever since he could remember, he was unaware + that there was anything very peculiar about her. But in truth she was a + strange looking child. Very thin, she had a large head, with big + outstanding ears, spectacles, and yellow hair pulled back and “stringy.” + Her large hands were always red, and her forehead was freckled. She was as + plain a child as you were ever likely to see, but there was character in + her mouth and eyes, and although she was only seven years old, she could + read quite difficult books (she was engaged at this particular time upon + “Ivanhoe”), and she was a genius at sums. + </p> + <p> + The passion of her life, as the family were all aware, was Jeremy, but it + was an unfortunate and uncomfortable passion. She bothered and worried + him, she was insanely jealous; she would sulk for days did he ever seem to + prefer Helen to herself. No one understood her; she was considered a + “difficult child,” quite unlike any other member of the family, except + possibly Samuel, Mr. Cole's brother-in-law, who was an unsuccessful + painter and therefore “odd.” + </p> + <p> + As Mary was at present only seven years of age it would be too much to say + that the family was afraid of her. Aunt Amy's attitude was: “Well, after + all, she's sure to be clever when she grows up, poor child;” and although + the parishioners of Mary's father always alluded to her as “the ludicrous + Cole child,” they told awed little stories about the infant's mental + capacities, and concluded comfortably, “I'm glad Alice (or Jane or Matilda + or Anabel) isn't clever like that. They overwork when they are young, and + then when they grow up—” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mary led her private life. She attached herself to no one but + Jeremy; she was delicate and suffered from perpetual colds; she therefore + spent much of her time in the nursery reading, her huge spectacles close + to the page, her thin legs like black sticks stuck up on the fender in + front of the fire or curled up under her on the window-seat. + </p> + <p> + Very different was Helen. Helen had a mass of dark black hair, big black + eyes with thick eye-lashes, a thin white neck, little feet, and already an + eye to “effects” in dress. She was charming to strangers, to the queer + curates who haunted the family hall, to poor people and rich people, to + old people and young people. She was warm-hearted but not impulsive, + intelligent but not clever, sympathetic but not sentimental, impatient but + never uncontrolled. She liked almost everyone and almost everything, but + no one and nothing mattered to her very deeply; she liked going to church, + always learnt her Collect first on Sunday, and gave half her pocket-money + to the morning collection. She was generous but never extravagant, enjoyed + food but was not greedy. She was quite aware that she was pretty and might + one day be beautiful, and she was glad of that, but she was never silly + about her looks. + </p> + <p> + When Aunt Amy, who was always silly about everything, said in her presence + to visitors, “Isn't Helen the loveliest thing you ever saw?” she managed + by her shy self-confidence to suggest that she was pretty, that Aunt Amy + was a fool, and life was altogether very agreeable, but that none of these + things was of any great importance. She was very good friends with Jeremy, + but she played no part in his life at all. At the same time she often + fought with him, simply from her real deep consciousness of her + superiority to him. She valued her authority and asserted it incessantly. + That authority had until last year been unchallenged, but Jeremy now was + growing. She had, although she did not as yet realise it, a difficult time + before her. + </p> + <p> + Helen and Mary advanced with their presents, laid them on the + breakfast-table, and then retreated to watch the effect of it all. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I now?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, now,” said Helen and Mary. + </p> + <p> + There were three parcels, one large and “shoppy,” two small and bound with + family paper, tied by family hands with family string. He grasped + immediately the situation. The shoppy parcel was bought with mother's + money and only “pretended” to be from his sisters; the two small parcels + were the very handiwork of the ladies themselves, the same having been + seen by all eyes at work for the last six months, sometimes, indeed, under + the cloak of attempted secrecy, but more often—because weariness or + ill-temper made them careless—in the full light of day. + </p> + <p> + His interest was centred almost entirely in the “shoppy” parcel, which by + its shape might be “soldiers”; but he knew the rules of the game, and + disregarding the large, ostentatious brown-papered thing, he went + magnificently for the two small incoherent bundles. + </p> + <p> + He opened them. A flat green table-centre with a red pattern of roses, a + thick table-napkin ring worked in yellow worsted, these were revealed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he cried, “just what I wanted.” (Father always said that on his + birthday.) + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” said Mary and Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Mine's the ring,” said Mary. “It's dirty rather, but it would have got + dirty, anyway, afterwards.” She watched anxiously to see whether he + preferred Helen's. + </p> + <p> + He watched them nervously, lest he should be expected to kiss them. He + wiped his mouth with his hand instead, and began rapidly to talk: + </p> + <p> + “Jampot will know now which mine is. She's always giving me the wrong one. + I'll have it always, and the green thing too.” + </p> + <p> + “It's for the middle of a table,” Helen interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” said Jeremy hurriedly. “I'll always have it too—like + Mary's—when I'm grown up and all.... I say, shall I open the other + one now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you can,” said Helen and Mary, ceasing to take the central place in + the ceremony, spectators now and eagerly excited. + </p> + <p> + But Mary had a last word. + </p> + <p> + “You do like mine, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, like anything.” + </p> + <p> + She wanted to say “Better than Helen's?” but restrained herself. + </p> + <p> + “I was ever so long doing it; I thought I wouldn't finish it in time.” + </p> + <p> + He saw with terror that she meditated a descent upon him; a kiss was in + the air. She moved forward; then, to his extreme relief, the door opened + and the elders arriving saved him. + </p> + <p> + There were Father and Mother, Uncle Samuel and Aunt Amy, all with + presents, faces of birthday tolerance and “do-as-you-please-to-day, dear” + expressions. + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Herbert Cole was forty years of age, rector of St. James's, + Polchester, during the last ten years, and marked out for greater + preferment in the near future. To be a rector at thirty is unusual, but he + had great religious gifts, preached an admirable “as-man-to-man” sermon, + and did not believe in thinking about more than he could see. He was an + excellent father in the abstract sense, but the parish absorbed too much + of his time to allow of intimacies with anyone. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cole was the most placid lady in Europe. She had a comfortable + figure, but was not stout, here a dimple and there a dimple. Nothing could + disturb her. Children, servants, her husband's sermons, district visiting, + her Tuesday “at homes,” the butcher, the dean's wife, the wives of the + canons, the Polchester climate, bills, clothes, other women's clothes—over + all these rocks of peril in the sea of daily life her barque happily + floated. Some ill-natured people thought her stupid, but in her younger + days she had liked Trollope's novels in the Cornhill, disapproved placidly + of “Jane Eyre,” and admired Tennyson, so that she could not be considered + unliterary. + </p> + <p> + She was economical, warm-hearted, loved her children, talked only the + gentlest scandal, and was a completely happy woman—all this in the + placidest way in the world. Miss Amy Trefusis, her sister, was very + different, being thin both in her figure and her emotions. She skirted + tempestuously over the surface of things, was the most sentimental of + human beings, was often in tears over reminiscences of books or the + weather, was deeply religious in a superficial way, and really—although + she would have been entirely astonished had you told her so—cared + for no one in the world but herself. She was dressed always in dark + colours, with the high shoulders of the day, elegant bonnets and little + chains that jingled as she moved. In her soul she feared and distrusted + children, but she did not know this. She did know, however, that she + feared and distrusted her brother Samuel. + </p> + <p> + Her brother Samuel was all that the Trefusis family, as a conservative + body who believed in tradition, had least reason for understanding. He had + been a failure from the first moment of his entry into the Grammar School + in Polchester thirty-five years before this story. He had continued a + failure at Winchester and at Christ Church, Oxford. He had desired to be a + painter; he had broken from the family and gone to study Art in Paris. He + had starved and starved, was at death's door, was dragged home, and there + suddenly had relapsed into Polchester, lived first on his father, then on + his brother-in-law, painted about the town, painted, made cynical remarks + about the Polcastrians, painted, made blasphemous remarks about the + bishop, the dean and all the canons, painted, and refused to leave his + brother-in-law's house. He was a scandal, of course; he was fat, untidy, + wore a blue tam-o'-shanter when he was “out,” and sometimes went down + Orange Street in carpet slippers. + </p> + <p> + He was a scandal, but what are you to do if a relative is obstinate and + refuses to go? At least make him shave, say the wives of the canons. But + no one had ever made Samuel Trefusis do anything that he did not want to + do. He was sometimes not shaved for three whole days and nights. At any + rate, there he is. It is of no use saying that he does not exist, as many + of the Close ladies try to do. And at least he does not paint strange + women; he prefers flowers and cows and the Polchester woods, although + anything less like cows, flowers and woods, Mrs. Sampson, wife of the + Dean, who once had a water-colour in the Academy, says she has never seen. + Samuel Trefusis is a failure, and, what is truly awful, he does not mind; + nobody buys his pictures and he does not care; and, worst taste of all, he + laughs at his relations, although he lives on them. Nothing further need + be said. + </p> + <p> + To Helen, Mary and Jeremy he had always been a fascinating object, + although they realised, with that sharp worldly wisdom to be found in all + infants of tender years, that he was a failure, a dirty man, and disliked + children. He very rarely spoke to them; was once quite wildly enraged when + Mary was discovered licking his paints. (It was the paints he seemed + anxious about, not in the least the poor little thing's health, as his + sister Amy said), and had publicly been heard to say that his + brother-in-law had only got the children he deserved. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless Jeremy had always been interested in him. He liked his fat + round shape, his rough, untidy grey hair, his scarlet slippers, his blue + tam-o'-shanter, the smudges of paint sometimes to be discovered on his + cheeks, and the jingling noises he made in his pocket with his money. He + was certainly more fun than Aunt Amy. + </p> + <p> + There, then, they all were with their presents and their birthday faces. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I undo them for you, darling?” of course said Aunt Amy. Jeremy + shook his head (he did not say what he thought of her) and continued to + tug at the string. He was given a large pair of scissors. He received + (from Father) a silver watch, (from Mother) a paint-box, a dark blue and + gold prayer book with a thick squashy leather cover (from Aunt Amy). + </p> + <p> + He was in an ecstasy. How he had longed for a watch, just such a + turnip-shaped one, and a paint-box. What colours he could make! Even Aunt + Amy's prayer book was something, with its squashy cover and silk marker + (only why did Aunt Amy never give him anything sensible?). He stood there, + his face flushed, his eyes sparkling, the watch in one hand and the + paint-box in the other. Remarks were heard like: “You mustn't poke it + with, your finger, Jerry darling, or you'll break the hands off”; and “I + thought he'd, better have the square sort, and not the tubes. They're so + squashy”; and “You'll be able to learn your Collect so easily with that + big print, Jerry dear. Very kind of you, Amy.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile he was aware that Uncle Samuel had given him nothing. There was + a little thick catch of disappointment in his throat, not because he + wanted a present, but because he liked Uncle Samuel. Suddenly, from + somewhere behind him his uncle said: “Shut your eyes, Jerry. Don't open + them until I tell you”—then rather crossly, “No, Amy, leave me + alone. I know what I'm about, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy shut his eyes tight. He closed them so that the eyelids seemed to + turn right inwards and red lights flashed. He stood there for at least a + century, all in darkness, no one saying anything save that once Mary cried + “Oh!” and clapped her hands, which same cry excited him to such a pitch + that he would have dug his nails into his hands had he not so consistently + in the past bitten them that there were no nails with which to dig. He + waited. He waited. He waited. He was not eight, he was eighty when at last + Uncle Samuel said, “Now you may look.” + </p> + <p> + He opened his eyes and turned; for a moment the nursery, too, rocked in + the unfamiliar light. Then he saw. On the middle of the nursery carpet was + a village, a real village, six houses with red roofs, green windows and + white porches, a church with a tower and a tiny bell, an orchard with + flowers on the fruit trees, a green lawn, a street with a butcher's shop, + a post office, and a grocer's. Villager Noah, Mrs. Noah and the little + Noahs, a field with cows, horses, dogs, a farm with chickens and even two + pigs... + </p> + <p> + He stood, he stared, he drew a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “It comes all the way from Germany,” said Aunt Amy, who always made things + uninteresting if she possibly could. + </p> + <p> + There was much delighted talk. Jeremy said nothing. But Uncle Samuel + understood. + </p> + <p> + “Glad you like it,” he said, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you pleased?” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy still said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Sausages. Sausages!” cried Mary, as Gladys, grinning, entered with a dish + of a lovely and pleasant smell. But Jeremy did not turn. He simply stood + there—staring. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + It is of the essence of birthdays that they cannot maintain throughout a + long day the glorious character of their early dawning. In Polchester + thirty years ago there were no cinematographs, no theatre save for an + occasional amateur performance at the Assembly Rooms and, once and again, + a magic-lantern show. On this particular day, moreover, Mr. and Mrs. Cole + were immensely busied with preparations for some parochial tea. Miss + Trefusis had calls to make, and, of course, Uncle Samuel was invisible. + The Birthday then suddenly became no longer a birthday but an ordinary day—with + an extraordinary standard. This is why so many birthdays end in tears. + </p> + <p> + But Jeremy, as was usual with him, took everything quietly. He might cry + aloud about such an affair as the conquest of the wicker chair because + that did not deeply matter to him, but about the real things he was + silent. The village was one of the real things; during all the morning he + remained shut up in his soul with it, the wide world closed off from them + by many muffled doors. How had Uncle Samuel known that he had deep in his + own inside, so deep that he had not mentioned it even to himself, wanted + something just like this? Thirty years ago there were none of the presents + that there are for children now—no wonderful railways that run round + the nursery from Monte Carlo to Paris with all the stations marked; no + dolls that are so like fashionable women that you are given a manicure set + with them to keep their nails tidy; no miniature motor-cars that run of + themselves and go for miles round the floor without being wound up. Jeremy + knew none of these things, and was the happier that he did not. To such a + boy such a village was a miracle.... It had not come from Germany, as Aunt + Amy said, but from heaven. But it was even more of Uncle Samuel than the + village that he was thinking. When they started—Helen, Mary and he + in charge of the Jampot—upon their afternoon walk, he was still + asking himself the same questions. How had Uncle Samuel known so exactly? + Had it been a great trouble to bring from so far away? Had Uncle Samuel + thought it bad of him not to thank him? + </p> + <p> + He was lost in such considerations when the Jampot inquired of him the way + that their walk should take—it was his choice because it was his + Birthday. He had no choice. There was one walk that far exceeded all + others in glory, straight down Orange Street, straight again through the + Market, past the Assembly Rooms and the Town Hall, past the flower and + fruit stalls, and the old banana woman under the green umbrella and the + toy stall with coloured balloons, the china dogs and the nodding donkeys, + up the High Street, into the cobble-stones of the Close, whence one could + look down, between the houses on to the orchards, round the Cathedral with + the meadows, Pol Meads sloping down to the river, so through Orchard Lane + into Orange Street once again. + </p> + <p> + Such a walk combined every magic and delight known to the heart of man, + but it was not generally allowed, because Jeremy would drag past the + shops, the stalls in the Market Place and the walk behind the Cathedral, + whence one might sometimes see boats on the river, sheep and cows in the + meads, and, in their proper season, delight of delights—lambs. + </p> + <p> + They set out... + </p> + <p> + Thirty years ago the winter weather in Polchester was wonderful. Now, of + course, there are no hard winters, no frost, no snow, no waits, no + snowmen, and no skating on the Pol. Then there were all those things. + To-day was of a hard, glittering frost; the sun, like a round, red lacquer + tray, fell heavily, slowly through a faint pale sky that was not strong + enough to sustain it. The air had the cold, sweet twang of peppermints in + the throat. Polchester was a painted town upon a blue screen, the + Cathedral towers purple against the sky; the air was scented with burning + leaves, and cries from the town rose up clear and hard, lingering and + falling like notes of music. Somewhere they were playing football, and the + shouting was distant and regular like the tramp of armed men. “Three” + struck the Cathedral clock, as though it were calling “Open Sesame.” Other + lesser clocks repeated the challenge cry through the town. “Woppley—Woppley—Why!” + sung the man who was selling skins down Orange Street. The sky, turning + slowly from blue to gold, shone mysteriously through the glass of the + street lamps, and the sun began to wrap itself in tints of purple and + crocus and iris. + </p> + <p> + “Woppley—Woppley—Why!” screamed the skin-man suddenly + appearing at the top of the street. + </p> + <p> + “Now 'urry, Master Jeremy,” said the Jampot, “or we shall never get 'ome + this night, and I might have known you'd choose the longest walk possible. + Come along, Miss Mary, now—none of that dawdling.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, in his H.M.S. Adventure's cap and rough blue navy coat, felt + himself superior to the Jampot, so he only said, “Oh, don't bother, + Nurse,” and then in the same breath, “I'll run you down the hill, Mary,” + and before anyone could say a word there they were at the bottom of Orange + Street, as though they had fallen into a well. The sun was gone, the + golden horizon was gone—only the purple lights began to gather about + their feet and climb slowly the high black houses. + </p> + <p> + Mary liked this, because she now had Jeremy to herself. She began + hurriedly, so that she should lose no time: + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you a story, Jeremy? I've got a new one. Once upon a time + there were three little boys, and they lived in a wood, and an old witch + ate them, and the Princess who had heaps of jewellery and a white horse + and a lovely gold dress came, and it was snowing and the witch—” + </p> + <p> + This was always Mary's way. She loved to tell Jeremy interesting stories, + and he did not mind because he did not listen and could meanwhile think + his own thoughts. + </p> + <p> + His chief decision arrived at as he marched along was that he would keep + the village to himself; no one else should put their fingers into it, + arrange the orchard with the coloured trees, decide upon the names of the + Noah family, settle the village street in its final order, ring the bell + of the church, or milk the cows. He alone would do all these things. And, + so considering, he seemed to himself very like God. God, he supposed, + could pull Polchester about, root out a house here, another there, knock + the Assembly Rooms down and send a thunderbolt on to the apple woman's + umbrella. Well, then—so could he with his village. He walked swollen + with pride. He arrived at the first Island of Circe, namely, the window of + Mr. Thompson, the jeweller in Market Street, pressed his nose to the pane, + and refused to listen when the Jampot suggested that he should move + forward. + </p> + <p> + He could see the diamonds like drops of water in the sun, and the pearls + like drops of milk, and the rubies like drops of blood, but it was not of + diamonds, pearls or rubies that he was thinking—he thought only of + his village. He would ring the church bell, and then all the Noah family + should start out of the door, down the garden, up the village street... It + did not matter if one of the younger Noahs should be lazy and wish to stay + at home beneath the flowering trees of the orchard. She would not be + allowed... He was as God.. . He was as God... The butcher should go (if he + was not stuck to his shop), and even some of his cows might go.... He was + as God... + </p> + <p> + He heard Mary's voice in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “And after that they all ate chocolates with white cream and red cream, + and they sucked it off pins, and there were hard bits and soft bits, and + the Princess (she was a frog now. You remember, don't you, Jeremy? The + witch turned her) hotted the oven like cook has, with black doors, and + hotted it and hotted it, but suddenly there was a noise—” + </p> + <p> + And, on the other side, the Jampot's voice: “You naughty boy, stoppin' + 'ere for everyone to see, just because it's your birthday, which I wish + there wasn't no birthdays, nor there wouldn't be if I had my way.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy turned from Mr. Thompson's window, a scornful smile on his face: + </p> + <p> + “I'm bigger'n you, Nurse,” he said. “If I said out loud, 'I won't go,' I + wouldn't go, and no one could make me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come along, then,” said Nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be so stupid, Jerry,” said Helen calmly. “If a policeman came and + said you had to go home you'd have to go.” + </p> + <p> + “No I wouldn't,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Then they'd put you in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “They could.” + </p> + <p> + “They'd hang you, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “They could,” replied Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + Farther than this argument cannot go, so Helen shrugged her shoulders and + said: “You are silly.” + </p> + <p> + And they all moved forward. + </p> + <p> + He found then that this new sense or God-like power detracted a little + from the excitements of the Market Place, although the flower-stall was + dazzling with flowers; there was a new kind of pig that lifted its tail + and lowered it again on the toy stall, and the apple-woman was as fat as + ever and had thick clumps of yellow bananas hanging most richly around her + head. They ascended the High Street and reached the Close. It was + half-past three, and the Cathedral bells had begun to ring for evensong. + All the houses in the Close were painted with a pale yellow light; across + the long green Cathedral lawn thin black shadows like the fingers of + giants pointed to the Cathedral door. All was so silent here that the + bells danced against the houses and back again, the echoes lingering in + the high elms and mingling with the placid cooing of the rooks. + </p> + <p> + “There's Mrs. Sampson,” said Jeremy. “Aunt Amy says she's a wicked woman. + Do you think she's a wicked woman, Nurse?” He gazed at the stout figure + with interest. If he were truly God he would turn her into a rabbit. This + thought amused him, and he began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You naughty boy; now come along, do,” said the Jampot, who distrusted + laughter in Jerry. + </p> + <p> + “I'll ring the bells when I grow up,” he said, “and I'll ring them in the + middle of the night, so that everyone will have to go to church when they + don't want to. I'll be able to do what I like when I grow up.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you won't,” said Helen. “Father and Mother can't do what they like.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes they can,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “No they can't,” answered Helen, “or they would.” + </p> + <p> + “So they do,” said Jeremy—“silly.” + </p> + <p> + “Silly yourself,” said Helen very calmly, because she knew very well that + she was not silly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, children, stop it, do,” said the Jampot. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy's sense of newly received power reached its climax when they walked + round the Close and reached the back of the Cathedral. I know that now, + both for Jeremy and me, that prospect has dwindled into its proper + grown-up proportions, but how can a man, be he come to threescore and ten + and more, ever forget the size, the splendour, the stupendous extravagance + of that early vision? + </p> + <p> + Jeremy saw that day the old fragment of castle wall, the green expanse + falling like a sheeted waterfall from the Cathedral heights, the blue line + of river flashing in the evening sun between the bare-boughed trees, the + long spaces of black shadow spreading slowly over the colour, as though it + were all being rolled up and laid away for another day; the brown frosty + path of the Rope Walk, the farther bank climbing into fields and hedges, + ending in the ridge of wood, black against the golden sky. And all so + still! As the children stood there they could catch nestlings' faint + cries, stirrings of dead leaves and twigs, as birds and beasts moved to + their homes; the cooing of the rooks about the black branches seemed to + promise that this world should be for ever tranquil, for ever cloistered + and removed; the sun, red and flaming above the dark wood, flung white + mists hither and thither to veil its departure. The silence deepened, the + last light flamed on the river and died upon the hill. + </p> + <p> + “Now, children, come along do,” said the Jampot who had been held in spite + of herself, and would pay for it, she knew, in rheumatism to-morrow. It + was then that Jeremy's God-flung sense of power, born from that moment + early in the day when he had sat in the wicker chair, reached its climax. + He stood there, his legs apart, looking upon the darkening world and felt + that he could do anything—anything... + </p> + <p> + At any rate, there was one thing that he could do, disobey the Jampot. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not coming,” he said, “till I choose.” + </p> + <p> + “You wicked boy!” she cried, her temper rising with the evening chills, + her desire for a cup of hot tea, and an aching longing for a comfortable + chair. “When everyone's been so good to you to-day and the things you've + been given and all—why, it's a wicked shame.” + </p> + <p> + The Jampot, who was a woman happily without imagination, saw a naughty + small boy spoiled and needing the slipper. + </p> + <p> + A rook, taking a last look at the world before retiring to rest, watching + from his leafless bough, saw a mortal spirit defying the universe, and + sympathised with it. + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell your mother,” said the Jampot. “Now come, Master Jeremy, be + a good boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't bother, Nurse,” he answered impatiently. “You're such a fuss.” + </p> + <p> + She realised in that moment that he was suddenly beyond her power, that he + would never be within it again. She had nursed him for eight years, she + had loved him in her own way; she, dull perhaps in the ways of the world, + but wise in the ways of nurses, ways that are built up of surrender and + surrender, gave him, then and there, to the larger life... + </p> + <p> + “You may behave as you like, Master Jeremy,” she said. “It won't be for + long that I'll have the dealing with you, praise be. You'll be going to + school next September, and then we'll see what'll happen to your wicked + pride.” + </p> + <p> + “School!” he turned upon her, his eyes wide and staring. + </p> + <p> + “School!” he stared at them all. + </p> + <p> + The world tumbled from him. In his soul was a confusion of triumph and + dismay, of excitement and loneliness, of the sudden falling from him of + all old standards, old horizons, of pride and humility... How little now + was the Village to him. He looked at them to see whether they could + understand. They could not. + </p> + <p> + Very quietly he followed them home. His birthday had achieved its + climax... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE FAMILY DOG + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + That winter of Jeremy's eighth birthday was famous for its snow. + Glebeshire has never yielded to the wishes of its children in the matter + of snowy Christmases, and Polchester has the reputation of muggy warmth + and foggy mists, but here was a year when traditions were fulfilled in the + most reckless manner, and all the 1892 babies were treated to a present of + snow on so fine a scale that certainly for the rest of their days they + will go about saying: “Ah, you should see the winters we used to have when + we were children...” + </p> + <p> + The snow began on the very day after Jeremy's birthday, coming down + doubtfully, slowly, little grey flakes against a grey sky, then sparkling + white, then vanishing flashes of moisture on a wet, unsympathetic soil. + That day the snow did not lie; and for a week it did not come again; then + with a whirl it seized the land, and for two days and nights did not + loosen its grip. From the nursery windows the children watched it, their + noses making little rings on the window-pane, their delighted eyes + snatching fascinating glimpses of figures tossed through the storm, cabs + beating their way, the rabbit-skin man, the milkman, the postman, brave + adventurers all, fighting, as it seemed, for their very lives. + </p> + <p> + For two days the children did not leave the house, and the natural result + of that was that on the second afternoon tempers were, like so many dogs, + straining, tugging, pulling at their chains. + </p> + <p> + It could not be denied that Jeremy had been tiresome to everyone since the + afternoon when he had heard the news of his going to school next + September. It had seemed to him a tremendous event, the Beginning of the + End. To the others, who lived in the immediate present, it was a crisis so + remote as scarcely to count at all. Mary would have liked to be + sentimental about it, but from this she was sternly prevented. There was + then nothing more to be said... + </p> + <p> + Jeremy was suddenly isolated from them all. His destiny was peculiar. They + were girls, he was a boy. They understood neither his fears nor his + ambitions; he needed terribly a companion. The snow, shutting them in, + laughed at their struggles against monotony. The nursery clock struck + three and they realised that two whole hours must pass before the next + meal. Mary, her nose red from pressing on the window-pane, her eyes gazing + through her huge spectacles wistfully at Jeremy, longed to suggest that + she should read aloud to him. She knew that he hated it; she pretended to + herself that she did not know. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy stared desperately at Helen who was sitting, dignified and + collected, in the wicker chair hemming a minute handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “We might play Pirates,” Jeremy said with a little cough, the better to + secure her attention. There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Or there's the hut in the wood—if anyone likes it better,” he added + politely. He did not know what was the matter. Had the Jampot not told him + about school he would at this very moment be playing most happily with his + village. It spread out there before him on the nursery floor, the Noah + family engaged upon tea in the orchard, the butcher staring with fixed + gaze from the door of his shop, three cows and a sheep absorbed in the + architecture of the church. + </p> + <p> + He sighed, then said again: “Perhaps Pirates would be better.” + </p> + <p> + Still Helen did not reply. He abandoned the attempted control of his + passions. + </p> + <p> + “It's very rude,” he said, “not to answer when gentlemen speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see any gentlemen,” answered Helen quietly, without raising her + eyes, which was, as she knew, a provoking habit. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do,” almost screamed Jeremy. “I'm one.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not,” continued Helen; “you're only eight. Gentlemen must be over + twenty like Father or Mr. Jellybrand.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate Mr. Jellybrand and I hate you,” replied Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do,” said Jeremy, then suddenly, as though even a good quarrel + were not worth while on this heavily burdened afternoon, he said gently: + “You might play Pirates, Helen. You can be Sir Roger.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got this to finish.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a dirty old thing,” continued Jeremy, pursuing an argument, “and + it'll be dirtier soon, and the Jampot says you do all the stitches wrong. + I wish I was at school.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you were,” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause after this. Jeremy went sadly back to his window-seat. + Mary felt that her moment had arrived. Sniffing, as was her habit when she + wanted something very badly, she said in a voice that was little more than + a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “It would be fun, wouldn't it, perhaps if I read something, Jeremy?” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy was a gentleman, although he was only eight. He looked at her and + saw behind the spectacles eyes beseeching his permission. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it wouldn't be much fun,” he said, “but it's all beastly this + afternoon, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I sit on the window too?” asked Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Not too close, because it tickles my ear, but you can if you like.” + </p> + <p> + She hurried across to the bookshelf. “There's 'Stumps' and 'Rags and + Tatters,' and 'Engel the Fearless,' and 'Herr Baby' and 'Alice' and—” + </p> + <p> + “'Alice' is best,” said Jeremy, sighing. “You know it better than the + others.” He curled himself into a corner of the window-seat. From his + position there he had a fine view. Immediately below him was the garden, + white and grey under the grey sky, the broken fountain standing up like a + snow man in the middle of it. The snow had ceased to fall and a great + stillness held the world. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the little iron gate of the garden that always sneezed “Tishoo” + when you closed it, was the top of Orange Street; then down the hill on + the right was the tower of his father's church; exactly opposite the gate + was the road that led to the Orchards, and on the right of that was the + Polchester High School for Young Ladies, held in great contempt by Jeremy, + the more that Helen would shortly be a day-boarder there, would scream + with the other girls, and, worst of all, would soon be seen walking with + her arm round another girl's neck, chattering and eating sweets... + </p> + <p> + The whole world seemed deserted. No colour, no movement, no sound. He + sighed once more—“I'd like to eat jam and jam—lots of it,” he + thought. “It would be fun to be sick.” + </p> + <p> + Mary arrived and swung herself up on to the window-seat. + </p> + <p> + “It's the 'Looking Glass' one. I hope you don't mind,” she said + apprehensively. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's all right,” he allowed. He flung a glance back to the lighted + nursery. It seemed by contrast with that grey world outside to blaze with + colour; the red-painted ships on the wallpaper, the bright lights and + shadows of “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” the salmon fronts of the + doll's house, the green and red of the village on the floor with the + flowery trees, the blue tablecloth, the shining brass coal-scuttle all + alive and sparkling in the flames and shadows of the fire, caught and held + by the fine gold of the higher fender. Beyond that dead white—soon + it would be dark, the curtains would be drawn, and still there would be + nothing to do. He sighed again. + </p> + <p> + “It's a nice bit about the shop,” said Mary. Jeremy said nothing, so she + began. She started at a run: + </p> + <p> + “She looked at the Queen, who seemed to have '“—sniff, sniff—“,' + sud-den-ly suddenly wra-wra-w-r-a-p-p-e-d wrapped—'” + </p> + <p> + “Wrapped?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Mary, rubbing her nose, “what it means, but perhaps + we'll see presently, herself up in w-o-o-l wool. 'Alice rubbed her eyes + and looked again she couldn't—'” + </p> + <p> + “'Looked again she couldn't'?” asked Jeremy. “It should be, 'she couldn't + look again.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there's a stop,” said Mary. “I didn't see. After 'again' there's a + stop. 'She couldn't make out what had happened at all—'” + </p> + <p> + “I can't either,” said Jeremy crossly. “It would be better perhaps if I + read it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be all right in a minute,” said Mary confidently. “'Was she in a + shop? And was that really—was it really a ship that was sitting on + the counter?'” she finished with a run. + </p> + <p> + “A what?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “A ship—” + </p> + <p> + “A ship! How could it sit on a counter?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, it's a sheep. How silly I am!” Mary exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “You do read badly,” he agreed frankly. “I never can understand nothing.” + And it was at that very moment that he saw the Dog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + He had been staring down into the garden with a gaze half abstracted, half + speculative, listening with one ear to Mary, with the other to the stir of + the fire, the heavy beat of the clock and the rustlings of Martha the + canary. + </p> + <p> + He watched the snowy expanse of garden, the black gate, the road beyond. A + vast wave of pale grey light, the herald of approaching dusk, swept the + horizon, the snowy roofs, the streets, and Jeremy felt some contact with + the strange air, the mysterious omens that the first snows of the winter + spread about the land. He watched as though he were waiting for something + to happen. + </p> + <p> + The creature came up very slowly over the crest of Orange Street. No one + else was in sight, no cart, no horse, no weather-beaten wayfarer. At first + the dog was only a little black smudge against the snow; then, as he + arrived at the Coles' garden-gate, Jeremy could see him very distinctly. + He was, it appeared, quite alone; he had been, it was evident, badly + beaten by the storm. Intended by nature to be a rough and hairy dog, he + now appeared before God and men a shivering battered creature, dripping + and wind-tossed, bedraggled and bewildered. And yet, even in that first + distant glimpse, Jeremy discerned a fine independence. He was a short + stumpy dog, in no way designed for dignified attitudes and patronising + superiority; nevertheless, as he now wandered slowly up the street, his + nose was in the air and he said to the whole world: “The storm may have + done its best to defeat me—it has failed. I am as I was. I ask + charity of no man. I know what is due to me.” + </p> + <p> + It was this that attracted Jeremy; he had himself felt thus after a + slippering from his father, or idiotic punishments from the Jampot, and + the uninvited consolations of Mary or Helen upon such occasions had been + resented with so fierce a bitterness that his reputation for sulkiness had + been soundly established with all his circle. + </p> + <p> + Mary was reading...! “'an old Sheep, sitting in an arm-chair, knitting, + and every now and then leaving off to look at her through a great pair of + spec-t-a-c-les spectacles!'” + </p> + <p> + He touched her arm and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “I say, Mary, stop a minute—look at that dog down there.” + </p> + <p> + They both stared down into the garden. The dog had stopped at the gate; it + sniffed at the bars, sniffed at the wall beyond, then very slowly but with + real dignity continued its way up the road. + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing,” said Jeremy. “It IS in a mess.” Then to their astonishment + the dog turned back and, sauntering down the road again as though it had + nothing all day to do but to wander about, and as though it were not wet, + shivering and hungry, it once more smelt the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Mary and Jeremy together. + </p> + <p> + “It's like Mother,” said Jeremy, “when she's going to see someone and + isn't sure whether it's the right house.” + </p> + <p> + Then, most marvellous of unexpected climaxes, the dog suddenly began to + squeeze itself between the bottom bar of the gate and the ground. The + interval was fortunately a large one; a moment later the animal was in the + Coles' garden. + </p> + <p> + The motives that led Jeremy to behave as he did are uncertain. It may have + been something to do with the general boredom of the afternoon, it may + have been that he felt pity for the bedraggled aspect of the animal—most + probable reason of all, was that devil-may-care independence flung up from + the road, as it were, expressly at himself. + </p> + <p> + The dog obviously did not feel any great respect for the Cole household. + He wandered about the garden, sniffing and smelling exactly as though the + whole place belonged to him, and a ridiculous stump of tail, unsubdued by + the weather, gave him the ludicrous dignity of a Malvolio. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going down,” whispered Jeremy, flinging a cautious glance at Helen + who was absorbed in her sewing. + </p> + <p> + Mary's eyes grew wide with horror and admiration. “You're not going out,” + she whispered. “In the snow. Oh, Jeremy. They WILL be angry.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” whispered Jeremy back again. “They can be.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, before Mary's frightened whisper he had not intended to do more + than creep down into the pantry and watch the dog at close range; now it + was as though Mary had challenged him. He knew that it was the most wicked + thing that he could do—to go out into the snow without a coat and in + his slippers. He might even, according to Aunt Amy, die of it, but as + death at present meant no more to him than a position of importance and a + quantity of red-currant jelly and chicken, THAT prospect did not deter + him. He left the room so quietly that Helen did not even lift her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then upon the landing he waited and listened. The house had all the + lighted trembling dusk of the snowy afternoon; there was no sound save the + ticking of the clocks. He might come upon the Jampot at any moment, but + this was just the hour when she liked to drink her cup of tea in the + kitchen; he knew from deep and constant study every movement of her day. + Fortune favoured him. He reached without trouble the little dark corkscrew + servants' staircase. Down this he crept, and found himself beside the + little gardener's door. Although here there was only snow-lit dusk, he + felt for the handle of the lock, found it, turned it, and was, at once, + over the steps, into the garden. + </p> + <p> + Here, with a vengeance, he felt the full romance and danger of his + enterprise. It was horribly cold; he had been in the nursery for two whole + days, wrapped up and warm, and now the snowy world seemed to leap up at + him and drag him down as though into an icy well. Mysterious shadows + hovered over the garden; the fountain pointed darkly against the sky, and + he could feel from the feathery touches upon his face that the snow had + begun to fall again. + </p> + <p> + He moved forward a few steps; the house was so dark behind him, the world + so dim and uncertain in front of him, that for a moment his heart failed + him. He might have to search the whole garden for the dog. + </p> + <p> + Then he heard a sniff, felt something wet against his leg—he had + almost stepped upon the animal. He bent down and stroked its wet coat. The + dog stood quite still, then moved forward towards the house, sniffed at + the steps, at last walked calmly through the open door as though the house + belonged to him. Jeremy followed, closed the door behind him; then there + they were in the little dark passage with the boy's heart beating like a + drum, his teeth chattering, and a terrible temptation to sneeze hovering + around him. Let him reach the nursery and establish the animal there and + all might be well, but let them be discovered, cold and shivering, in the + passage, and out the dog would be flung. He knew so exactly what would + happen. He could hear the voices in the kitchen. He knew that they were + sitting warm there by the fire, but that at any moment Jampot might think + good to climb the stairs and see “what mischief they children were up to.” + Everything depended upon the dog. Did he bark or whine, out into the night + he must go again, probably to die in the cold. But Jeremy, the least + sentimental of that most sentimental race the English, was too intent upon + his threatened sneeze to pay much attention to these awful possibilities. + </p> + <p> + He took off his slippers and began to climb the stairs, the dog close + behind him, very grave and dignified, in spite of the little trail of snow + and water that he left in his track. The nursery door was reached, pushed + softly open, and the startled gaze of Mary and Helen fell wide-eyed upon + the adventurer and his prize. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + The dog went directly to the fire; there, sitting in the very middle of + the golden cockatoos on the Turkey rug, he began to lick himself. He did + this by sitting very square on three legs and spreading out the fourth + stiff and erect, as though it had been not a leg at all but something of + wood or iron. The melted snow poured off him, making a fine little pool + about the golden cockatoos. He must have been a strange-looking animal at + any time, being built quite square like a toy dog, with a great deal of + hair, very short legs, and a thick stubborn neck; his eyes were brown, and + now could be seen very clearly because the hair that usually covered them + was plastered about his face by the snow. In his normal day his eyes + gleamed behind his hair like sunlight in a thick wood. He wore a little + pointed beard that could only be considered an affectation; in one word, + if you imagine a ridiculously small sheep-dog with no legs, a French beard + and a stump of a tail, you have him. And if you want to know more than + that I can only refer you to the description of his + great-great-great-grandson “Jacob,” described in the Chronicles of the + Beaminster Family. + </p> + <p> + The children meanwhile gazed, and for a long time no one said a word. Then + Helen said: “Father WILL be angry.” + </p> + <p> + But she did not mean it. The three were, by the entrance of the dog, + instantly united into an offensive and defensive alliance. They knew well + that shortly an attack from the Outside World must be delivered, and + without a word spoken or a look exchanged they were agreed to defend both + themselves and the dog with all the strength in their power. They had + always wanted a dog; they had been prevented by the stupid and selfish + arguments of uncomprehending elders. + </p> + <p> + Now this dog was here; they would keep him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's perfectly sweet,” suddenly said Helen. + </p> + <p> + The dog paused for a moment from his ablutions, raised his eyes, and + regarded her with a look of cold contempt, then returned to his task. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be so silly,” said Jeremy. “You know you always hate it when Aunt + Amy says things like that about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Nurse see?” asked Mary. + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't,” said Jeremy; “but she'll be up in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” asked Mary her mouth wide open. + </p> + <p> + “Do? Keep him, of course,” said Jeremy stoutly; at the same time his heart + a little failed him as he saw the pool of the water slowly spreading and + embracing one cockatoo after another in its ruinous flood. + </p> + <p> + “We ought to wipe him with a towel,” said Jeremy; “if we could get him dry + before Nurse comes up she mightn't say so much.” + </p> + <p> + But alas, it was too late for any towel; the door opened, and the Jampot + entered, humming a hymn, very cheerful and rosy from the kitchen fire and + an abundant series of chronicles of human failings and misfortunes. The + hymn ceased abruptly. She stayed there where she was, “frozen into an + image,” as she afterwards described it. She also said: “You could 'ave + knocked me down with a feather.” + </p> + <p> + The dog did not look at her, but crocked under him the leg that had been + stiff like a ramrod and spread out another. The children did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” For a moment words failed her; then she began, her hands spread + out as though she was addressing a Suffragette meeting in Trafalgar + Square. (She knew, happy woman, nothing of Suffragettes.) “Of all the + things, and it's you, Master Jeremy, that 'as done it, as anyone might + have guessed by the way you've been be'aving this last fortnight, and + what's come over you is more nor I nor anyone else can tell, which I was + saying only yesterday to your mother that it's more than one body and pair + of hands is up to the managing of now you've got so wild and wicked; and + wherever from did you get the dirty animal dropping water all over the + nursery carpet and smelling awful, I'll be bound, which anyone can see + that's got eyes, and you'd know what your father will do to you when he + knows of it, and so he shall, as sure as my name is Lizzie Preston.... Go + on out, you ugly, dirty animal-ough, you 'orrible creature you. I'll—” + </p> + <p> + But her advance was stopped. Jeremy stopped it. Standing in front of the + dog, his short thick legs spread defiantly apart, his fists clenched, he + almost shouted: + </p> + <p> + “You shan't touch him.... No, you shan't. I don't care. He shan't go out + again and die. You're a cruel, wicked woman.” + </p> + <p> + The Jampot gasped. Never, no, never in all her long nursing experience had + she been so defied, so insulted. + </p> + <p> + Her teeth clicked as always when her temper was roused, the reason being + that thirty years ago the arts and accomplishments of dentistry had not + reached so fine a perfection as to-day can show. + </p> + <p> + She had, moreover, bought a cheap set. Her teeth clicked. She began: “The + moment your mother comes I give her notice. To think that all these years + I've slaved and slaved only to be told such things by a boy as—” + </p> + <p> + Then a very dramatic thing occurred. The door opened, just as it might in + the third act of a play by M. Sardou, and revealed the smiling faces of + Mrs. Cole, Miss Amy Trefusis and the Rev. William Jellybrand, Senior + Curate of St. James's, Orange Street. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jellybrand had arrived, as he very often did, to tea. He had expressed + a desire, as he very often did, to see the “dear children.” Mrs. Cole, + liking to show her children to visitors, even to such regular and ordinary + ones as Mr. Jellybrand, at once was eager to gratify his desire. + </p> + <p> + “We'll catch them just before their tea,” she said happily. + </p> + <p> + There is an unfortunate tendency on the part of our Press and stage to + caricature our curates; this tendency I would willingly avoid. It should + be easy enough to do, as I am writing about Polchester, a town that simply + abounds—and also abounded thirty years ago—in curates of the + most splendid and manly type. But, unfortunately, Mr. Jellybrand was not + one of these. I, myself, remember him very well, and can see him now + flinging his thin, black, and—as it seemed to me then—gigantic + figure up Orange Street, his coat flapping behind him, his enormous boots + flapping in front of him, and his huge hands flapping on each side of him + like a huge gesticulating crow. + </p> + <p> + He had, the Polchester people who liked him said, “a rich voice.” The + others who did not like him called him “an affected ass.” He ran up and + down the scale like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ______________________________________________________________ + Mrs. + ______________________________________________________________ + dear + ______________________________________________________________ + My + ______________________________________________________________ + Cole. + ______________________________________________________________ +</pre> + <p> + and his blue cheeks looked colder than any iceberg. But then I must + confess that I am prejudiced. I did not like him; no children did. + </p> + <p> + The Cole children hated him. Jeremy because he had damp hands, Helen + because he never looked at her, Mary because he once said to her, “Little + girls must play as well as work, you know.” He always talked down to us as + though we were beings of another and inferior planet. He called it, + “Getting on with the little ones.” No, he was not popular with us. + </p> + <p> + He stood on this particular and dramatic occasion in front of the group in + the doorway and stared—as well he might. Unfortunately the + situation, already bad enough, was aggravated by this dark prominence of + Mr. Jellybrand. It cannot be found in any chronicles that Mr. Jellybrand + and the dog had met before; it is simply a fact that the dog, raising his + eyes at the opening of the door and catching sight of the black-coated + figure, forgot instantly his toilet, rose dripping from his rug, and + advanced growling, his lips back, his ears out, his tail erect, towards + the door. Then everything happened together. Mr. Jellybrand, who had been + afraid of dogs ever since, as an infant, he had been mistaken for a bone + by a large retriever, stepped back upon Aunt Amy, who uttered a shrill + cry. Mrs. Cole, although she did not forsake her accustomed placidity, + said: “Nurse... Nurse...” Jeremy cried: “It's all right, he wouldn't touch + anything, he's only friendly.” Mary and Helen together moved forward as + though to protect Jeremy, and the Jampot could be heard in a confused + wail: “Not me, Mum... Wickedest boy... better give notice... as never + listens... dog... dog...” + </p> + <p> + The animal, however, showed himself now, as at that first earlier view of + him, indifferent to his surroundings. He continued his advance and then, + being only a fraction of an inch from Mr. Jellybrand's tempting gleaming + black trousers, he stopped, crouched like a tiger, and with teeth still + bared continued his kettle-like reverberations. Aunt Amy, who hated dogs, + loved Mr. Jellybrand, and was not in the least sentimental when her + personal safety was in danger, cried in a shrill voice: “But take it away. + Take it away. Alice, tell him. It's going to bite Mr. Jellybrand.” + </p> + <p> + The dog raised one eye from his dreamy contemplation of the trousers and + glanced at Aunt Amy; from that moment may be dated a feud which death only + concluded. This dog was not a forgetful dog. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy advanced. “It's all right,” he cried scornfully. “He wouldn't bite + anything.” He bent down, took the animal by the scruff of the neck, and + proceeded to lead it back to the fire. The animal went without a moment's + hesitation; it would be too much to say that it exchanged a wink with + Jeremy, but something certainly passed between them. Back again on the + Turkey rug he became master of the situation. He did the only thing + possible: he disregarded entirely the general company and addressed + himself to the only person of ultimate importance—namely, Mrs. Cole. + He lay down on all fours, looked up directly into her face, bared his + teeth this time in a smile and not in a growl, and wagged his farcical + tail. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cole's psychology was of the simplest: if you were nice to her she + would do anything for you, but in spite of all her placidity she was + sometimes hurt in her most sensitive places. These wounds she never + displayed, and no one ever knew of them, and indeed they passed very + quickly—but there they occasionally were. Now on what slender + circumstances do the fates of dogs and mortals hang. Only that afternoon + Mr. Jellybrand, in the innocent self-confidence of his heart, had agreed + with Miss Maple, an elderly and bitter spinster, that the next sewing + meeting of the Dorcas Sisterhood should be held in her house and not at + the Rectory. He had told Mrs. Cole of this on his way upstairs to the + nursery. Now Mrs. Cole liked the Dorcas meetings at the Rectory; she liked + the cheerful chatter, the hospitality, the gentle scandal and her own + position as hostess. + </p> + <p> + She did not like—she never liked—Miss Maple, who was always + pushing herself forward, criticising and back-biting. Mr. Jellybrand + should not have settled this without consulting her. He had taken it for + granted that she would agree. He had said: “I agreed with Miss Maple that + it would be better to have it at her house. I'm sure you will think as I + do.” Why should he be sure? Was he not forgetting his position a + little?... + </p> + <p> + Kindest woman in the world, she had seen with a strange un-Christian + pleasure the dog's advance upon the black trousers. Then Mr. Jellybrand + had been obviously afraid. He fancied, perhaps, that she too had been + afraid. He fancied, perhaps, that she was not mistress in her house, that + she could be browbeaten by her sister and her nurse. + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him. “There's no reason to be afraid, Mr. Jellybrand. ... + He's such a little dog.” + </p> + <p> + Then the dog smiled at her. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little thing,” she said. “He must have nearly died in the snow.” + </p> + <p> + Thus Miss Maple, bitterest of spinsters, influenced, all unwitting, the + lives not only of a dog and a curate, but of the entire Cole family, and + through them, of endless generations both of dogs and men as yet unborn. + Miss Maple, sitting in her little yellow-curtained parlour drinking, in + jaundiced contentment, her afternoon's cup of tea, was, of course, unaware + of this. A good thing that she was unaware—she was quite conceited + enough already. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + After that smiling judgment of Mrs. Cole's, affairs were quickly settled. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it can only be for the night, children. Father will arrange + something in the morning. Poor little thing. Where did you find him?” + </p> + <p> + “We saw him from the window,” said Jeremy quickly, “and he was shivering + like anything, so we called him in to warm him.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Alice, you surely don't mean—” began Aunt Amy, and the + Jampot said: “I really think, Mum-,” and Mr. Jellybrand, in his rich + voice, murmured: “Is it quite wise, dear Mrs. Cole, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + With thoughts of Miss Maple she smiled upon them all. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for one night, I think we can manage. He seems a clean little dog, + and really we can't turn him out into the snow at once. It would be too + cruel. But mind, children, it's only for one night. He looks a good little + dog.” + </p> + <p> + When the “quality” had departed, Jeremy's mind was in a confused condition + of horror and delight. Such a victory as he had won over the Jampot, a + victory that was a further stage in the fight for independence begun on + his birthday, might have very awful qualities. There would begin now one + of the Jampot's sulks—moods well known to the Cole family, and + lasting from a day to a week, according to the gravity of the offence. + Yes, they had already begun. There she sat in her chair by the fire, + sewing, sewing, her fat, roly-poly face carved into a parody of deep + displeasure. Life would be very unpleasant now. No tops of eggs, no + marmalade on toast, no skins of milk, no stories of “when I was a young + girl,” no sitting up five minutes “later,” no stopping in the market-place + for a talk with the banana woman—only stern insistence on every + detail of daily life; swift judgment were anything left undone or done + wrong. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy sighed; yes, it would be horrid and, for the sake of the world in + general, which meant Mary and Helen, he must see what a little diplomacy + would do. Kneeling down by the dog, he looked up into her face with the + gaze of ingenuous innocence. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't have wanted the poor little dog to have died in the snow, + would you, Nurse?... It might, you know. It won't be any trouble, I expect—” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. He could hear Mary and Helen drawing in their breaths + with excited attention. + </p> + <p> + “Father always said we might have a dog one day when we were older—and + we are older now.” + </p> + <p> + Still no word. + </p> + <p> + “We'll be extra good, Nurse, if you don't mind. Don't you remember once + you said you had a dog when you were a little girl, and how you cried when + it had its ear bitten off by a nasty big dog, and how your mother said she + wouldn't have it fighting round the house, and sent it away, and you + cried, and cried, and cried, and how you said that p'r'aps we'll have one + one day?—and now we've got one.” + </p> + <p> + He ended triumphantly. She raised her eyes for one moment, stared at them + all, bit off a piece of thread, and said in deep, sepulchral tones: + </p> + <p> + “Either it goes, or I go.” + </p> + <p> + The three stared at one another. The Jampot go? Really go?... They could + hear their hearts thumping one after another. The Jampot go? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nurse, would you really?” whispered Mary. This innocent remark of + Mary's conveyed in the tone of it more pleased anticipation than was, + perhaps, polite. Certainly the Jampot felt this; a flood of colour rose + into her face. Her mouth opened. But what she would have said is + uncertain, for at that very moment the drama was further developed by the + slow movement of the door, and the revelation of half of Uncle Samuel's + body, clothed in its stained blue painting smock, and his ugly fat face + clothed in its usual sarcastic smile. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me one moment,” he said; “I hear you have a dog.” + </p> + <p> + The Jampot rose, as good manners demanded, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the creature?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The new addition to the Cole family had finished his washing; the blazing + fire had almost dried him, and his hair stuck out now from his body in + little stiff prickles, hedgehog fashion, giving him a truly original + appearance. His beard afforded him the air of an ambassador, and his + grave, melancholy eyes the absorbed introspection of a Spanish hidalgo; + his tail, however, in its upright, stumpy jocularity, betrayed his + dignity. + </p> + <p> + “There he is,” said Jeremy, with a glance half of terror, half of delight, + at the Jampot. “Isn't he lovely?” + </p> + <p> + “Lovely. My word!” Uncle Samuel's smile broadened. “He's about the most + hideous mongrel it's ever been my lot to set eyes on. But he has his + points. He despises you all, I'm glad to see.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, as usual with Uncle Samuel, was uncertain as to his sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “He looks a bit funny just now,” he explained. “He's been drying on the + rug. He'll be all right soon. He wanted to bite Mr. Jellybrand. It was + funny. Mr. Jellybrand was frightened as anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that must have been delightful,” agreed Uncle Samuel. “What's his + name?” + </p> + <p> + “We haven't given him one yet. Wouldn't you think of one, Uncle Samuel?” + </p> + <p> + The uncle considered the dog. The dog, with grave and scornful eyes, + considered the uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you really ask me,” said that gentleman, “if you name him by his + character I should say Hamlet would be as good as anything.” + </p> + <p> + “What's Hamlet?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “He isn't anything just now. But he was a prince who Was unhappy because + he thought so much about himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Hamlet'll do,” said Jeremy comfortably. “I've never heard of a dog called + that, but it's easy to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must go,” said Uncle Samuel, making one of his usual sudden + departures. “Glad to have seen the animal. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + He vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Hamlet,” repeated Jeremy thoughtfully. “I wonder whether he'll like + that-” + </p> + <p> + His attention, however, was caught by the Jampot's sudden outburst. + </p> + <p> + “All of them,” she cried, “supporting you in your wickedness and + disobedience. I won't 'ave it nor endure it not a minute longer. They can + 'ave my notice this moment, and I won't take it back, not if they ask me + on their bended knees—no, I won't—and that's straight.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant she frowned upon them all—then she was gone, the door + banging after her. + </p> + <p> + They gazed at one another. + </p> + <p> + There was a dreadful silence. Once Mary whispered: “Suppose she really + does.” + </p> + <p> + Hamlet only was unmoved. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later, Rose, the housemaid, entered with the tea-things. For a + little she was silent. Then the three faces raised to hers compelled her + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Nurse has been and given notice,” she said, “and the Missis has taken it. + She's going at the end of the month. She's crying now in the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + They were alone again. Mary and Helen looked at Jeremy as though waiting + to follow his lead. He did not know what to say. There was Tragedy, there + was Victory, there was Remorse, there was Triumph. He was sorry, he was + glad. His eyes fell upon Hamlet, who was now stretched out upon the rug, + his nose between his paws, fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + Then he looked at his sisters. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said slowly, “it's awfully nice to have a dog—anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Such is the true and faithful account of Hamlet's entrance into the train + of the Coles. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. CHRISTMAS PANTOMIME + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + I am sometimes inclined to wonder whether, in very truth, those Polchester + Christmases of nearly thirty years ago were so marvellous as now in + retrospect they seem. I can give details of those splendours, facts and + figures, that to the onlooker are less than nothing at all—a sugar + elephant in a stocking, a box of pencils on a Christmas tree, “Hark, the + Herald Angels...” at three in the morning below one's window, a lighted + plum-pudding, a postman four hours late, his back bent with bursting + parcels. And it is something further—behind the sugar cherries and + the paper caps and the lighted tree—that remains to give magic to + those days; a sense of expectancy, a sense of richness, a sense of + worship, a visit from the Three Kings who have so seldom come to visit one + since. + </p> + <p> + That Christmas of Jeremy's ninth year was one of the best that he ever + had; it was perhaps the last of the MAGICAL Christmases. After this he was + to know too much, was to see Father Christmas vanish before a sum in + arithmetic, and a stocking change into something that “boys who go to + school never have”—the last of the Christmases of divine magic, when + the snow fell and the waits sang and the stockings were filled and the + turkey fattened and the candles blazed and the holly crackled by the will + of God rather than the power of man. It would be many years before he + would realise that, after all, in those early days he had been right... + </p> + <p> + A very fat book could be written about all that had happened during that + wonderful Christmas, how Hamlet the Dog caught a rat to his own immense + surprise; how the Coles' Christmas dinner was followed by a play acted + with complete success by the junior members of the family, and it was only + Mr. Jellybrand the curate who disapproved; how Aunt Amy had a new dress in + which, by general consent, she looked ridiculous; how Mary, owing to the + foolish kindness of Mrs. Bartholomew, the Precentor's wife, was introduced + to the works of Charlotte Mary Yonge and became quite impossible in + consequence; how Miss Maple had a children's party at which there was + nothing to eat, so that all the children cried with disappointment, and + one small boy (the youngest son of the Precentor) actually bit Miss Maple; + how for two whole days it really seemed that there would be skating on The + Pool, and everyone bought skates, and then, of course, the ice broke, and + so on, and so on... there is no end to the dramatic incidents of that + great sensational time. + </p> + <p> + The theme that I sing, however, is Jeremy's Progress, and although even + Hamlet's catching of a rat influenced his development, there was one + incident of this Christmas that stands out and away from all the others, + an affair that he will never all his days forget, and that even now, at + this distance of time and experience, causes his heart to beat roughly + with the remembered excitement and pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Several weeks before Christmas there appeared upon the town walls and + hoardings the pictured announcements of the approaching visit to + Polchester of Denny's Great Christmas Pantomime “Dick Whittington.” Boxing + Night was to see the first performance at our Assembly Rooms, and during + every afternoon and evening of the next three weeks this performance was + to be repeated. + </p> + <p> + A pantomime had, I believe, never visited our town before; there had, of + course, for many years been the Great Christmas Pantomime at the Theatre + Royal, Drymouth, but in those days trains were not easy, and if you wished + to attend an afternoon performance at the Drymouth Theatre you must rise + very early in the morning by the candle-light and return late in the + evening, with the cab forgetting to meet you at the station as commanded, + and the long walk up Orange Street, and a headache and a bad temper next + day. + </p> + <p> + It happened naturally then that the majority of the Polchester children + had never set their inquisitive noses within the doors of a theatre, and + although the two eldest daughters of the Dean, aged ten and eleven, had + been once to London and to Drury Lane Theatre, their sense of glory and + distinction so clouded their powers of accuracy and clarity that we were + no nearer, by their help and authority, to the understanding of what a + pantomime might really be. + </p> + <p> + I can myself recall the glory of those “Dick Whittington” pictures. Just + above Martin's the pastry-cook's (where they sold lemon biscuits), near + the Cathedral, there was a big wooden hoarding, and on to this was pasted + a marvellous representation of Dick and his Cat dining with the King of + the Zanzibar Islands. The King, a Mulatto, sat with his court in a hall + with golden pillars, and the rats were to be seen flying in a confused + flood towards the golden gates, whilst Dick, in red plush and diamond + buckles, stood in dignified majesty, the Cat at his side. There was + another wonderful picture of Dick asleep at the Cross Roads, fairies + watching over him, and London Town in a lighted purple distance—and + another of the streets of Old London with a comic fat serving man, + diamond-paned windows, cobblestones and high pointing eaves to the houses. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy saw these pictures for the first time during one of his afternoon + walks, and returned home in such a state of choking excitement that he + could not drink his tea. As was ever his way he was silent and controlled + about the matter, asked very few questions, and although he talked to + himself a little did not disturb the general peace of the nursery. On Mary + and Helen the effect of the posters had been less. Mary was following the + adventures of the May family in “The Daisy Chain,” and Helen was making + necklaces for herself out of a box of beads that had been given her. + </p> + <p> + When Jeremy said once, “Who was the man in the red trousers with gold on + them?” no one paid any attention save Hamlet, who wagged his tail, looked + wise and growled a little. + </p> + <p> + Who indeed could tell how he ached and longed and desired He had a very + vague idea as to the nature of a play; they had often dressed up at home + and pretended to be different things and people, and, of course, he knew + by heart the whole history of Dick Whittington, but this knowledge and + experience did not in the least force him to realise that this performance + of Mr. Denny's was simply a larger, more developed “dressing up” and + pretending. In some mysterious but nevertheless direct fashion Dick + Whittington was coming to Polchester. It was just as he had heard for a + long time of the existence of Aunt Emily who lived in Manchester—and + then one day she appeared in a black bonnet and a shawl, and gave them wet + kisses and sixpence apiece. + </p> + <p> + Dick Whittington was coming, having perhaps heard that Polchester was a + very jolly place. So might come any day Jack of the Beanstalk, Cinderella, + Queen Victoria, and God. + </p> + <p> + There were questions meanwhile that he would like to ask, but he was + already a victim to that properly English fear of making a fool of + himself, so he asked nothing. He dragged out his toy village and tried to + make it a bridge in his imagination between the nursery and Whittington's + world. As the village opened a door from the nursery, so might Whittington + open a door from the village. + </p> + <p> + He considered Hamlet and wondered whether he knew anything about it. + Hamlet, in spite of his mongrel appearance, was a very clever dog. He had + his especial corners in the garden, the kitchen and the nursery. He never + misbehaved, was never in the way, and was able to amuse himself for hours + together. Although he attached himself quite deliberately to Jeremy, he + did this in no sentimental fashion, and in his animosities towards the + Jampot, Aunt Amy and the boy who helped with the boots and the knives, he + was always restrained and courteous. He did indeed growl at Aunt Amy, but + always with such a sense of humour that everyone (except Aunt Amy) was + charmed, and he never actually supported the children in their rebellions + against the Jampot, although you could see that he liked and approved of + such things. The Jampot hated him with a passion that caused the nursery + to quiver with emotion. Was he not the cause of her approaching departure, + his first appearance having led her into a tempest of passion that had + caused her to offer a “notice” that she had never for an instant imagined + would be accepted? Was he not a devilish dog who, with, his quiet + movements and sly expressions, was more than human? “Mark my words,” she + said in the kitchen, “there's a devil in that there animal, and so they'll + find before they're many years older—'Amlet indeed—a + 'eathenish name and a 'eathenish beast.” + </p> + <p> + Her enemy had discovered that in one corner of the nursery there were + signs and symbols that witnessed to something in the nature of a mouse or + a rat. That nursery corner became the centre of all his more adventurous + instincts. It happened to be just the corner where the Jampot kept her + sewing machine, and you would think, if you came to the nursery as a + stranger, and saw him sitting, his eyes fixed beamingly upon the machine, + his tail erect, and his body here and there quivering a little, that from + duties of manly devotion he was protecting the Jampot's property. She knew + better; she regarded, in some undefined way, this continued contemplation + by him of her possessions as an ironical insult. She did everything + possible to drive him from the corner; he inevitably returned, and as he + always delicately stepped aside when she approached, it could not be said + that he was in her way. Once she struck him; he looked at her in such a + fashion that “her flesh crept.”... She never struck him again. + </p> + <p> + For Jeremy he became more and more of a delight. He understood so much. He + sympathised, he congratulated, he sported, always at the right moment. He + would sit gravely at Jeremy's feet, his body pressed against Jeremy's leg, + one leg stuck out square, his eyes fixed inquisitively upon the nursery + scene. He would be motionless; then suddenly some thought would electrify + him—his ears would cock, his eyes shine, his nose quiver, his tail + tumble. The crisis would pass; he would be composed once more. He would + slide down to the floor, his whole body collapsing; his head would rest + upon Jeremy's foot; he would dream of cats, of rats, of birds, of the + Jampot, of beef and gravy, of sugar, of being washed, of the dogs' + Valhalla, of fire and warmth, of Jeremy, of walks when every piece of + flying paper was a challenge, of dogs, dogs that he had known of when he + was a puppy, of doing things he shouldn't, of punishment and wisdom, pride + and anger, of love-affairs of his youth, of battle, of settling-down, of + love-affairs in the future, again of cats and beef, and smells—smells—smells, + again of Jeremy, whom he loved. And Jeremy, watching him now, thus + sleeping, and thinking of Dick Whittington, wondered why it was that a dog + would understand so easily, without explanations, the thoughts and desires + he had, and that all grown-up people would not understand, and would + demand so many explanations, and would laugh at one, and pity one, and + despise one. Why was it? he asked himself. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he suddenly cried, turning upon Helen; “it can be your birthday + treat!” + </p> + <p> + “What can?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, going to Dick Whittington—all of us.” + </p> + <p> + Helen had, most unfortunately for herself, a birthday only a week after + Christmas, the result being that, in her own opinion at any rate, she + never received “proper presents” on either of those two great + present-giving occasions. She was always allowed, however, a “treat”; her + requests were generally in the nature of food; once of a ride in the + train; once even a visit to the Polchester Museum... It was difficult in + those days to find “treats” in Polchester. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do you think they'd let us?” she said, her eyes wide. + </p> + <p> + “We can try,” said Jeremy. “I heard Aunt Amy say the other day that she + didn't think it was right for children to see acting, and Mother always + does the opposite to what Aunt Amy says, so p'r'aps it will be all right. + I wish Hamlet could go,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly!” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't silly,” Jeremy said indignantly. “It's all about a cat, anyway, + and he'd love to see all the rats and things. He wouldn't bark if we told + him not to, and I held his collar.” + </p> + <p> + “If Aunt Amy sat next him he would,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother Aunt Amy,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + After this Helen needed a great deal of urging; but she heard that Lucy + and Angela, the aforesaid daughters of the Dean, were going, and the + spirit of rivalry drove her forward. + </p> + <p> + It happened that the Dean himself one day said something to Mr. Cole about + “supporting a very praiseworthy effort. They are presenting, I understand, + the proceeds of the first performance to the Cathedral Orphanage.” + </p> + <p> + Helen was surprised at the readiness with which her request was granted. + </p> + <p> + “We'll all go,” said Mr. Cole, in his genial, pastoral fashion. “Good for + us... good for us... to see the little ones laugh. .. good for us all.” + </p> + <p> + Only Uncle Samuel said “that nothing would induce him—” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + I pass swiftly over Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the day after, + although I should like to linger upon these sumptuous dates. Jeremy had a + sumptuous time; Hamlet had a sumptuous time (a whole sugar rat, plates and + plates of bones, and a shoe of Aunt Amy's); Mary and Helen had sumptuous + times in their own feminine fashion. + </p> + <p> + Upon the evening of Christmas Eve, when the earth was snow-lit, and the + street-lamps sparkled with crystals, and the rime on the doorsteps + crackled beneath one's feet, Jeremy accompanied his mother on a + present-leaving expedition. The excitement of that! The wonderful shapes + and sizes of the parcels, the mysterious streets, the door-handles and the + door-bells, the glittering stars, the maidservants, the sense of the + lighted house, as though you opened a box full of excitements and then + hurriedly shut the lid down again. Jeremy trembled and shook, not with + cold, but with exalting, completely satisfying happiness. + </p> + <p> + There followed the Stocking, the Waits, the Carols, the Turkey, the + Christmas Cake, the Tree, the Presents, Snapdragon, Bed... There followed + Headache, Ill-temper, Smacking of Mary, Afternoon Walk, Good Temper again, + Complete Weariness, Hamlet sick on the Golden Cockatoos, Hamlet Beaten, + Five minutes with Mother downstairs, Bed. .. Christmas was over. + </p> + <p> + From that moment of the passing of Boxing Day it was simply the counting + of the minutes to “Dick Whittington.” Six days from Boxing Day. Say you + slept from eight to seven—eleven hours; that left thirteen hours; + six thirteen hours was, so Helen said, seventy-eight. Seventy-eight hours, + and Sunday twice as long as the other days, and that made thirteen more; + ninety-one, said Helen, her nose in the air. + </p> + <p> + The week dragged along, very difficult work for everybody, and even Hamlet + felt the excitement and watched his corner with the Jampot's sewing + machine in it with more quivering intensity than ever. The Day Before The + Day arrived, the evening before The Day, the last supper before The Day, + the last bed before The Day... Suddenly, like a Jack-in-the-Box, The Day + itself. + </p> + <p> + Then the awful thing happened. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy awoke to the consciousness that something terrific was about to + occur. He lay for a minute thinking—then he was up, running about + the nursery floor as though he were a young man in Mr. Rossetti's poetry + shouting: “Helen! Mary! Mary! Helen!... It's Dick Whittington! Dick + Whittington!” + </p> + <p> + On such occasions he lost entirely his natural reserve and caution. He + dressed with immense speed, as though that would hasten the coming of the + evening. He ran into the nursery, carrying the black tie that went under + his sailor-collar. + </p> + <p> + He held it out to the Jampot, who eyed him with disfavour. She was leaving + them all in a week and was a strange confusion of sentiment and bad + temper, love and hatred, wounded pride and injured dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Nurse. Please. Fasten it,” he said impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “And that's not the way to speak, Master Jeremy, and well you know it,” + she said. “'Ave you cleaned your teeth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered without hesitation. It was not until the word was + spoken that he realised that he had not. He flushed. The Jampot eyed him + with a sudden sharp suspicion. He was then and ever afterwards a very bad + hand at a lie... + </p> + <p> + He would have taken the word back, he wanted to take it back—but + something held him as though a stronger than he had placed his hand over + his mouth. His face flamed. + </p> + <p> + “You've truly cleaned them?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, truly,” he answered, his eyes on the ground. Never was there a more + obvious liar in all the world. + </p> + <p> + She said no more; he moved to the fireplace. His joy was gone. There was a + cold clammy sensation about his heart. Slowly, very slowly, the + consciousness stole upon him that he was a liar. He had not thought it a + lie when he had first spoken, now he knew. + </p> + <p> + Still there was time. Had he turned round and spoken, all might still have + been well. But now obstinacy held him. He was not going to give the Jampot + an opportunity for triumphing over him. After all, he would clean them so + soon as she went to brush Helen's hair. In a moment what he had said would + be true. + </p> + <p> + But he was miserable. Hamlet came up from the nether regions where he had + spent the night, showing his teeth, wagging his tail, and even rolling on + the cockatoos. Jeremy paid no attention. The weight in his heart grew + heavier and heavier. He watched, from under his eyelids, the Jampot. In a + moment she must go into Helen's room. But she did not. She stayed for a + little arranging the things on the breakfast-table—then suddenly, + without a word, she turned into Jeremy's bedchamber. His heart began to + hammer. There was an awful pause; he heard from miles away Mary's voice: + “Do do that button, Helen, I can't get it!” and Helen's “Oh, bother!” + </p> + <p> + Then, like Judgment, the Jampot appeared again. She stood in the doorway, + looking across at him. + </p> + <p> + “You 'ave not cleaned your teeth, Master Jeremy,” she said. “The glass + isn't touched, nor your toothbrush... You wicked, wicked boy. So it's a + liar you've become, added on to all your other wickedness.” + </p> + <p> + “I forgot,” he muttered sullenly. “I thought I had.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled the smile of approaching triumph. + </p> + <p> + “No, you did not,” she said. “You knew you'd told a lie. It was in your + face. All of a piece—all of a piece.” + </p> + <p> + The way she said this, like a pirate counting over his captured treasure, + was enraging. Jeremy could feel the wild fury at himself, at her, at the + stupid blunder of the whole business rising to his throat. + </p> + <p> + “If you think I'm going to let this pass you're making a mighty mistake,” + she continued, “which I wouldn't do not if you paid me all the gold in the + kingdom. I mayn't be good enough to keep my place and look after such as + you, but anyways I'm able to stop your lying for another week or two. I + know my duty even though there's them as thinks I don't.” + </p> + <p> + She positively snorted, and the excitement of her own vindication and the + just condemnation of Jeremy was such that her hands trembled. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what you do,” Jeremy shouted. “You can tell anyone you like. + I don't care what you do. You're a beastly woman.” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon him, her face purple. “That's enough, Master Jeremy,” she + said, her voice low and trembling. “I'm not here to be called names by + such as you. You'll be sorry for this before you're much older.... You + see.” + </p> + <p> + There was then an awful and sickly pause. Jeremy seemed to himself to be + sinking lower and lower into a damp clammy depth of degradation. What must + this world be that it could change itself so instantly from a place of gay + and happy pleasure into a dim groping room of punishment and dismay? + </p> + <p> + His feelings were utterly confused. He supposed that he was terribly + wicked. But he did not feel wicked. He only felt miserable, sick and + defiant. Mary and Helen came in, their eyes open to a crisis, their bodies + tuned sympathetically to the atmosphere of sin and crime that they + discerned around them. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Cole came in as was his daily habit—for a moment before his + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here are you all,” he cried. “Ready for to-night? No breakfast yet? + Why, now...?” + </p> + <p> + Then perceiving, as all practised fathers instantly must, that the + atmosphere was sinful, he changed his voice to that of the Children's + Sunday Afternoon Service—a voice well known in his family. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir,” began the Jampot, “I'm sorry to 'ave to tell you, sir, that + Master Jeremy's not been at all good this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jeremy,” he said, turning to his son, “what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy's face, raised to his father's, was hard and set and sullen. + </p> + <p> + “I've told a lie,” he said; “I said I'd cleaned my teeth when I hadn't. + Nurse went and looked, and then I called her a beastly woman.” + </p> + <p> + The Jampot's face expressed a grieved and at the same time triumphant + confirmation of this. + </p> + <p> + “You told a lie?” Mr. Cole's voice was full of a lingering sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sorry?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry that I told a lie, but I'm not sorry I called Nurse a beastly + woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Jeremy!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not. She is a beastly woman.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cole was always at a loss when anyone defied him, even though it were + only a small boy of eight. He took refuge now in his ecclesiastical and + parental authority. + </p> + <p> + “I'm very distressed—very distressed indeed. I hope that punishment, + Jeremy, will show you how wrong you have been. I'm afraid you cannot come + with us to the Pantomime to-night.” + </p> + <p> + At that judgement a quiver for an instant held Jeremy's face, turning it, + for that moment, into something shapeless and old. His heart had given a + wild leap of terror and dismay. But he showed no further sign. He simply + stood there waiting. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cole was baffled, as he always was by Jeremy's moods, so he continued: + </p> + <p> + “And until you've apologised to Nurse for your rudeness you must remain by + yourself. I shall forbid your sisters to speak to you. Mary and Helen, you + are not to speak to your brother until he has apologised to Nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Father,” said Helen + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Father, mayn't he come to-night?” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mary, I'm afraid not.” + </p> + <p> + A tear rolled down her cheek. “It won't be any fun without Jeremy,” she + said. She wished to make the further sacrifice of saying that she would + not go unless Jeremy did, but some natural caution restrained her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cole, his face heavy with sorrow, departed. At the dumb misery of + Jeremy's face the Jampot's hear—in reality a kind and even + sentimental heart—repented her. + </p> + <p> + “There, Master Jeremy, you be a good boy all day, and I dare say your + father will take you, after all; and we won't think no more about what you + said to me in the 'eat of the moment.” + </p> + <p> + But Jeremy answered nothing; nor did he respond to the smell of bacon, nor + the advances of Hamlet, nor the flood of sunlight that poured into the + room from the frosty world outside. + </p> + <p> + A complete catastrophe. They none of them had wanted to see this thing + with the urgent excitement that he had felt. They had not dreamt of it for + days and nights and nights and days, as he had done. Their whole future + existence did not depend upon their witnessing this, as did his. + </p> + <p> + During that morning he was a desperate creature, like something caged and + tortured. Do happy middle-aged philosophers assure us that children are + light-hearted and unfeeling animals? Let them realise something of the + agony which Jeremy suffered that day. His whole world had gone. + </p> + <p> + He was wicked, an outcast; his word could never be trusted again; he would + be pointed at, as the boy who had told a lie... And he would not meet Dick + Whittington. + </p> + <p> + The eternity of his punishment hung around his neck like an iron chain. + Childhood's tragedies are terrible tragedies, because a child has no sense + of time; a moment's dismay is eternal; a careless word from an elder is a + lasting judgment; an instant's folly is a lifetime's mistake. + </p> + <p> + The day dragged its weary length along, and he scarcely moved from his + corner by the fire. He did not attempt conversation with anyone. Once or + twice the Jampot tried to penetrate behind that little mask of anger and + dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, things aren't so bad as all that. You be a good boy, and go + and tell your father you're sorry...” or “Well, then, Master Jeremy, + there'll be another time, I dare say, you can go to the the-ayter...” + </p> + <p> + But she found no response. If there was one thing that she hated, it was + sulks. Here they were, sulks of the worst—and so, like many wiser + than herself, she covered up with a word a situation that she did not + understand, and left it at that. + </p> + <p> + The evening came on; the curtains were drawn. Tea arrived; still Jeremy + sat there, not speaking, not raising his eyes, a condemned creature. Mary + and Helen and Hamlet had had a wretched day. They all sympathised with + him. + </p> + <p> + The girls went to dress. Seven o'clock struck. They were taken downstairs + by Nurse, who had her evening out. Rose, the housemaid, would sit with + Master Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + Doors closed, doors opened, voices echoed, carriage-wheels were heard. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy and Hamlet were left to themselves... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + The last door had closed, and the sudden sense that everyone had gone and + that he might behave now as he pleased, removed the armour in which all + day he had encased himself. + </p> + <p> + He raised his head, looked about the deserted nursery, and then, with the + sudden consciousness of that other lighted and busied place where + Whittington was pursuing his adventures, he burst into tears. He sobbed, + his head down upon his arms, and his body squeezed together so that his + knees were close to his nose and his hair in his boots. Hamlet restored + him to himself. Instead of assisting his master's grief, as a sentimental + dog would have done, by sighing or sniffing or howling, he yawned, + stretched himself, and rolled on the carpet. He did not believe in giving + way to feelings, and he was surprised, and perhaps disappointed, at + Jeremy's lack of restraint. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy felt this, and in a little while sobs came very slowly, and at last + were only little shudders, rather pleasant and healthy. He looked about + him, rubbed his red nose with a hideously dirty handkerchief, and felt + immensely sleepy. + </p> + <p> + No, he would not cry any more. Rose would shortly appear, and he did not + intend to cry before housemaids. Nevertheless, his desolation was supreme. + He was a liar. He had told lies before, but they had not been discovered, + and so they were scarcely lies... Now, in some strange way, the + publication of his lie had shown him what truly impossible things lies + were. He had witnessed this effect upon the general public; he had not + believed that he was so wicked. He did not even now feel really wicked, + but he saw quite clearly that there was one world for liars and one for + truthful men. He wanted, terribly badly, someone to tell him that he was + still in the right world... + </p> + <p> + And then, on the other side, the thought that Mary and Helen were at this + very moment witnessing the coloured history of Dick Whittinglon, the + history that he had pursued ceaselessly during all these days and nights—that + picture of them all in the lighted theatre—once more nearly overcame + him. But he pulled himself together. + </p> + <p> + He sniffed, left his dirty handkerchief, and went slowly and sorrowfully + to drag out his toy village from its corner and see whether anything could + be done with it.... After all, he was going to school in September. His + punishment could not be quite limitless. Hamlet had just shown his + approval of this manly conduct by strolling up and sniffing at the Noah + family, who were, as usual, on their way to church, when the door suddenly + opened, and in came Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy had forgotten his uncle, and now blinked up at him from the floor, + where he was squatting, rather ashamed of his swollen eyes and red nose. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Samuel, however, had no time for details; he was apparently in a + hurry. He did not wear his blue painting-smock, but was in a comparatively + clean black suit, and on the back of his head was a squashy brown hat. + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” he said, “or we shall be too late.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy choked. “Too late?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “You're coming, aren't you—to the Pantomime? They sent me back for + you.” + </p> + <p> + The room suddenly got on to its legs, like the food and the families + during Alice's feast in the “Looking Glass,” and swung round, lurching + from side to side, and causing the fire to run into the gas and the gas to + fly out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “I—don't—understand,” Jeremy stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you don't understand in half a shake,” said Uncle Samuel, “you + won't see any of the show at all. Go on. Wash your face. There are streaks + of dirt all down it as though you were a painted Indian; stick on your cap + and coat and boots and come along.” + </p> + <p> + Exactly as one moves in sleep so Jeremy now moved. He had once had a + wonderful dream, in which he had been at a meal that included every thing + that he had most loved—fish-cakes, sausages, ices, strawberry jam, + sponge-cake, chocolates, and scrambled eggs—and he had been able to + eat, and eat, and had never been satisfied, and had never felt sick—a + lovely dream. + </p> + <p> + He often thought of it. And now in the same bewildering fashion he found + his boots and cap and coat and then, deliberately keeping from him the + thought of the Pantomime lest he should suddenly wake up, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm ready, Uncle.” + </p> + <p> + Samuel Trefusia looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “You're a strange kid,” he said; “you take everything so quietly—but, + thank God, I don't understand children.” + </p> + <p> + “There's Hamlet,” said Jeremy, wondering whether perhaps the dream would + extend to his friend. “I suppose he can't come too.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he certainly can't,” said Uncle Samuel grimly. + </p> + <p> + “And there's Rose. She'll wonder where I've gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I've told her. Don't you worry. What a conscientious infant you are. Just + like your father. Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Jeremy breathlessly, and nearly murdered himself going + downstairs because he shut his eyes in order to continue the dream so long + as it was possible. Then in the cold night air, grasping his uncle's hand + with a feverish hold, he stammered: + </p> + <p> + “Is it really true? Are we going—really?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we're going. Come on—step out or you'll miss the Giant.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but—oh!” he drew a deep breath. “Then they don't think me + a liar any more?” + </p> + <p> + “They—who?” + </p> + <p> + “Father and Mother and everyone.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think about them. You'd better enjoy yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said you wouldn't go to the Pantomime—not for anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've changed my mind. Don't talk so much. You know I hate you + children chattering. Always got something to say.” + </p> + <p> + So Jeremy was silent. They raced down Orange Street, Jeremy being almost + carried off his feet. This was exactly like a dream. This rushing movement + and the way that the lamp-posts ran up to you as though they were going to + knock you down, and the way that the stars crackled and sputtered and + trembled overhead. But Uncle Samuel's hand was flesh and blood, and the + heel of Jeremy's right shoe hurt him and he felt the tickle of his + sailor-collar at the back of his neck, just as he did when he was awake. + </p> + <p> + Then there they were at the Assembly Rooms door, Jeremy having become so + breathless that Uncle Samuel had to hold him up for a moment or he'd have + fallen. + </p> + <p> + “Bit too fast for you, was it? Well, you shouldn't be so fat. You eat too + much. Now we're not going to sit with your father and mother—there + isn't room for you there. So don't you go calling out to them or anything. + We're sitting in the back and you'd better be quiet or they'll turn you + out.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be quiet,” gasped Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Samuel paused at a lighted hole in the wall and spoke to a large + lady in black silk who was drinking a cup of tea. Jeremy caught the jingle + of money. Then they moved forward, stumbling in the dark up a number of + stone steps, pushing at a heavy black curtain, then suddenly bathed in a + bewildering glow of light and scent and colour. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy's first impression, as he fell into this new world, was of an ugly, + harsh, but funny voice crying out very loudly indeed: “Oh, my great aunt! + Oh, my great aunt! Oh, my great aunt!” A roar of laughter rose about him, + almost lifting him off his feet, and close to his car a Glebeshire voice + sobbed: “Eh, my dear. Poor worm! Poor worm!” + </p> + <p> + He was aware then of a strong smell of oranges, of Uncle Samuel pushing + him forward, of stumbling over boots, knees, and large hands that were + clapping in his very nose, of falling into a seat and then clinging to it + as though it was his only hope in this strange puzzling world. The high + funny voice rose again: “Oh, my great aunt! Oh, my great aunt!” And again + it was followed by the rough roar of delighted laughter. + </p> + <p> + He was aware then that about him on every side gas was sizzling, and then, + as he recovered slowly his breath, his gaze was drawn to the great blaze + of light in the distance, against which figures were dimly moving, and + from the heart of which the strange voice came. He heard a woman's voice, + then several voices together; then suddenly the whole scene shifted into + focus, his eyes were tied to the light; the oranges and the gas and the + smell of clothes and heated bodies slipped back into distance—he was + caught into the world where he had longed to be. + </p> + <p> + He saw that it was a shop—and he loved shops. His heart beat thickly + as his eyes travelled up and up and up over the rows and rows of shelves; + here were bales of cloth, red and green and blue; carpets from the East, + table-covers, sheets and blankets. Behind the long yellow counters young + men in strange clothes were standing. In the middle of the scene was a + funny old woman, her hat tumbling off her head, her shabby skirt dragging, + large boots, and a red nose. It was from this strange creature that the + deep ugly voice proceeded. She had, this old woman, a number of bales of + cloth under her arms, and she tried to carry them all, but one slipped, + and then another, and then another; she bent to pick them up and her hat + fell off; she turned for her hat and all the bales tumbled together. + Jeremy began to laugh—everyone laughed; the strange voice came again + and again, lamenting, bewailing, she had secured one bale, a smile of + cautious triumph began to spread over her ugly face, then the bales all + fell again, and once more she was on her knees. It was then that her voice + or some movement brought to Jeremy's eyes so vividly the figure of their + old gardener, Jordan, that he turned round to Uncle Samuel, and suddenly + grasping that gentleman's fat thigh, exclaimed convulsively: “Why, she's a + man!” + </p> + <p> + What a strange topsy-turvy world this was in which women were men, and + shops turned (as with a sudden creaking and darkness and clattering did + this one) into gardens by the sea. Jeremy drew his breath deeply and held + on. His mouth was open and his hair on end.. . + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to define exactly Jeremy's ultimate impression as the + entertainment proceeded. Perhaps he had no ultimate impression. It cannot + in reality have been a very wonderful Pantomime. Even at Drury Lane thirty + years back there were many things that they did not know, and it is not + likely that a touring company fitted into so inadequate an old building as + our Assembly Rooms would have provided anything very fine. But Jeremy will + never again discover so complete a realisation for his illusions. Whatever + failures in the presentation there were, he himself made good. + </p> + <p> + As a finale to the first half of the entertainment there was given Dick's + dream at the Cross-Roads. He lay on the hard ground, his head upon his + bundle, the cat as large as he watching sympathetically beside him. In the + distance were the lights of London, and then, out of the half dusk, + fairies glittering with stars and silver danced up and down the dusky road + whilst all the London bells rang out “Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor + of London.” + </p> + <p> + Had Jeremy been of the age and wisdom of Uncle Samuel he would have + discovered that Dick was a stout lady and probably the mother of a growing + family; that the fairies knew as much about dancing as the Glebeshire + wives sitting on the bench behind; that the London bells were two hand + instruments worked by a youth in shirt sleeves behind the scenes so + energetically that the High Road and the painted London blew backwards and + forwards in sympathy with his movements. Jeremy, happily, was not so + worldly wise as his uncle. This scene created for him then a tradition of + imperishable beauty that would never fade again. The world after that + night would be a more magical place than it had ever been before. “Turn + again, Whittington” continued the education that the Toy Village and + Hamlet had already advanced. + </p> + <p> + When the gas rose once again, sizzling like crackling bacon, he was white + with excitement. The only remark that he made was: “It's much better than + the pictures outside Martin's, isn't it, Uncle Samuel?” to which Uncle + Samuel, who had been railing for weeks at the deflowering of Polchester by + those abominable posters, could truthfully reply, “Much better.” Little by + little he withdrew himself from the other world and realised his own. He + could see that he and his uncle were certainly not amongst the Quality. + Large ladies, their dresses tucked up over their knees, sucked oranges. + Country farmers with huge knobbly looking sticks were there, and even some + sailors, on their way probably to Drymouth. He recognised the lady who + kept charge of the small Orange Street post-office, and waved to her with + delighted excitement. The atmosphere was thick with gas and oranges, and + I'm afraid that Uncle Samuel must have suffered a great deal. I can only + put it on record that he, the most selfish of human beings, never breathed + a word of complaint. + </p> + <p> + They were all packed very closely together up there in the gallery, where + seventy years before an orchestra straight from Jane Austen's novels had + played to the dancing of the contemporaries of Elizabeth Bennett, Emma + Woodhouse, and the dear lady of “Persuasion.” Another thirty-two years and + that same gallery would be listening to recruiting appeals and echoing the + drums and fifes of a martial band. The best times are always the old + times. The huge lady in the seat next to Jeremy almost swallowed him up, + so that he peered out from under her thick arm, and heard every crunch and + crackle of the peppermints that she was enjoying. He grew hotter and + hotter, so that at last he seemed, as once he had read in some warning + tract about a greedy boy that Aunt Amy had given him, “to swim in his own + fat.” But he did not mind. Discomfort only emphasised his happiness. Then, + peering forward beneath that stout black arm, he suddenly perceived, far + below in the swimming distance, the back of his mother, the tops of the + heads of Mary and Helen, the stiff white collar of his father, and the + well-known coral necklace of Aunt Amy. For a moment dismay seized him, the + morning's lie which he had entirely forgotten suddenly jumping up and + facing him. But they had forgiven him. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I wave to them?” he asked excitedly of Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said his uncle very hurriedly. “Nonsense. They wouldn't see you + if you did. Leave them alone.” + </p> + <p> + He felt immensely superior to them up where he was, and he wouldn't have + changed places with them for anything. He gave a little sigh of + satisfaction. “I could drop an orange on to Aunt Amy's head,” he said. + “Wouldn't she jump!” + </p> + <p> + “You must keep quiet,” said Uncle Samuel. “You're good enough as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather be here,” said Jeremy. “It's beautifully hot here and there's + a lovely smell.” + </p> + <p> + “There is,” said Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + Then the gas went down, and the curtain went up, and Dick, now in a suit + of red silk with golden buttons, continued his adventures. I have not + space here to describe in detail the further events of his life—how, + receiving a telegram from the King of the Zanzibars about the plague of + rats, he took ship with his cat and Alderman Fitzwarren and his wife, how + they were all swallowed by a whale, cast up by a most lucky chance on the + Zanzibars, nearly cooked by the natives, and rescued by the King of the + Zanzibars' beautiful daughter, killed all the rats, were given a huge + feast, with dance and song, and finally Dick, although tempted by the + dusky Princess, refused a large fortune and returned to Alice of + Eastcheap, the true lady of his heart. There were, of course, many other + things, such as the aspirations and misadventures of Mrs. Fitzwarren, the + deep-voiced lady who had already so greatly amused Jeremy. And then there + was a Transformation Scene, in which roses turned into tulips and tulips + into the Hall of Gold, down whose blazing steps marched stout + representatives of all the nations. + </p> + <p> + It was in the middle of this last thrilling spectacle, when Jeremy's heart + was in his mouth and he was so deeply excited that he did not know whether + it were he or the lady next to him who was eating peppermints, that his + uncle plucked him by the sleeve and said in his ear: “Come on. It's close + on the end. We must go.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy very reluctantly got up, and stumbled out over knees and legs and + exclamations like: + </p> + <p> + “There's Japan!” “No, it ain't; it's Chiney!” “You's a fine, hearty young + woman!” and so on. He was dragged through the black curtain, down the + stone steps, and into the street. + </p> + <p> + “But it wasn't the end,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It will be in one minute,” said his uncle. “And I want us to get home + first.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind. Come on; we'll race it.” + </p> + <p> + They arrived home breathless, and then, once again in the old familiar + hall, Uncle Samuel said: + </p> + <p> + “Now you nip up to the nursery, and then they'll never know you've been + out at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Never know?” said Jeremy. “But you said they'd sent for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Uncle Samuel, “that wasn't exactly true. As a matter of fact, + they don't know you were there.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Jeremy, the corner of his mouth turning down. “Then I've told a + lie again!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Uncle Samuel impatiently. “It wasn't you; it was I.” + </p> + <p> + “And doesn't it matter your telling lies?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + The answer to this difficult question was, happily for Uncle Samuel, + interrupted by the arrival of the household, who had careened up Orange + Street in a cab. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. and Mrs. Cole saw Jeremy standing in the hall, his great coat + still on and his muffler round his neck, there was a fine scene of wonder + and amazement. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Samuel explained. “It was my fault. I told him you'd forgiven him + and sent for him to come, after all. He's in an awful state now that you + shouldn't forgive him.” + </p> + <p> + Whatever they thought of Uncle Samuel, this was obviously neither the time + nor the place to speak out. Mrs. Cole looked at her son. His body defiant, + sleepy, excited. His mouth was obstinate, but his eyes appealed to her on + the scene of the common marvellous experience that they had just enjoyed. + </p> + <p> + She hugged him. + </p> + <p> + “And you won't tell a lie again, will you, Jeremy, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” And then, hurrying on: “And when the old woman tumbled down the + steps, Mother, wasn't it lovely? And the fairies in Dick Whittington's + sleep, and when the furniture all fell all over the place—” + </p> + <p> + He went slowly upstairs to the nursery, the happiest boy in the kingdom. + But through all his happiness there was this puzzle: Uncle Samuel had told + a lie, and no one had thought that it mattered. There were good lies and + bad ones then. Or was it that grown-up people could tell lies and children + mustn't?... + </p> + <p> + He tumbled into the warm, lighted nursery half asleep. There was Hamlet + watching in front of the Jampot's sewing machine. + </p> + <p> + He would have things to think about for years and years and years... + </p> + <p> + There was the Jampot. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry I called you a beastly woman,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She sniffed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope you'll be a good boy now,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll be good,” he smiled. “But, Nurse, are there some people can tell + lies and others mustn't?” + </p> + <p> + “All them that tell lies goes to Hell,” said the Jampot. “And now, Master + Jeremy, come along and take your things off. It's past eleven, and what + you'll be like to-morrow—” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. MISS JONES + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + The coming of the new year meant the going of the Jampot, and the going of + the Jampot meant the breaking of a life-time's traditions. The departure + was depressing and unsettling; the weather was—as it always is + during January in Glebeshire—at its worst, and the Jampot, feeling + it all very deeply, maintained a terrible Spartan composure, which was + meant to show indifference and a sense of injustice. She had to the very + last believed it incredible that she should really go. She had been in the + old Orange Street house for eight years, and had intended to be there + until she died. She was forced to admit that Master Jeremy was going + beyond her; but in September he would go to school, and then she could + help with the sewing and other things about the house. The real truth of + the matter was that she had never been a very good servant, having too + much of the Glebeshire pride and independence and too little of the + Glebeshire fidelity. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cole had been glad of the opportunity that Hamlet's arrival in the + family had given her. The Jampot, only a week before the date of her + departure, came to her mistress and begged, with floods of tears, to be + allowed to continue in her service. But Mrs. Cole, with all her placidity, + was firm. The Jampot had to go. + </p> + <p> + I would like to paint a pleasant picture of the sentiment of the Cole + children on this touching occasion; something, perhaps, in the vein of + tragi-comedy with which Mr. Kenneth Graham embroiders a similar occasion + in his famous masterpiece—but in this case there was very little + sentiment and no tragedy at all. They did not think of the event + beforehand, and then when it suddenly occurred there was all the + excitement of being looked after by Rose, the housemaid, of having a + longer time with their mother in the evening, and, best of all, a + delightful walk with Aunt Amy, whose virginal peace of mind they attacked + from every possible quarter. + </p> + <p> + The Jampot left in a high state of sulks, declaring to the kitchen that no + woman had ever been so unfairly treated; that her married sister Sarah + Francis, of Rafiel, with whom she was now to live, should be told all + about it, and that the citizens of Rafiel should be compelled to + sympathise. The children were not unfeeling, but they hated the Jampot's + sulks, and while she waited in the nursery, longing for a word or movement + of affection, but wearing a face of stony disapproval, they stood + awkwardly beholding her, and aching for her to go. She was the more + unapproachable in that she wore her Sunday silks and a heavy black bonnet + with shiny rattling globes of some dark metal that nodded and becked and + bowed like live things. Hamlet, who had, of course, always hated the + Jampot, barked at this bonnet furiously, and would have bitten at it had + it been within his reach. She had meant to leave them all with little + sentences about life and morals; but the noise of the dog, the + indifference of the children, and the general air of impatience for her + departure strangled her aphorisms. Poor Jampot! She was departing to a + married sister who did not want her, and would often tell her so; her + prospects in life were not bright, and it is sad to think that no + inhabitant of the Orange Street house felt any sorrow at the sight of the + last gesticulating wave of her black bonnet as she stepped into the old + mouldy Polchester cab. + </p> + <p> + “The King is dead—long live the King!” The Jampot as a power in the + Cole family has ceased to be. + </p> + <p> + The day following the Jampot's departure offered up the news that, for the + first time in the history of the Coles, there was to be a governess. The + word “governess” had an awful sound, and the children trembled with a + mixture of delight and terror. Jeremy pretended indifference. + </p> + <p> + “It's only another woman,” he said. “She'll be like the Jampot—only, + a lady, so she won't be able to punish us as the Jampot could.” + </p> + <p> + I expect that Mr. and Mrs. Cole had great difficulty in finding anyone who + would do. Thirty years ago governesses were an incapable race, and + belonged too closely either to the Becky Sharp or the Amelia type to be + very satisfactory. It was then that the New Woman was bursting upon the + scene, but she was not to be found amongst the governesses. No one in + Polchester had learnt yet to cycle in rational costume, it was several + years before the publication of “The Heavenly Twins,” and Mr. Trollope's + Lilys and Lucys were still considered the ideal of England's maidenhood. + Mrs. Cole, therefore, had to choose between idiotic young women and + crabbed old maids, and she finally chose an old maid. I don't think that + Miss Jones was the very best choice that she could have made, but time was + short. Jeremy, aided by Hamlet, was growing terribly independent, and Mr. + Cole had neither the humour nor the courage to deal with him. No, Miss + Jones was not ideal, but the Dean had strongly recommended her. It is true + that the Dean had never seen her, but her brother, with whom she had lived + for many years, had once been the Dean's curate. It was true that he had + been a failure as a curate, but that made the Dean the more anxious to be + kind now to his memory, he—Mr. Jones—having just died of + general bad-temper and selfishness. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones, buried during the last twenty years in the green depths of a + Glebeshire valley, found herself now, at the age of fifty, without + friends, without money, without relations. She thought that she would be a + governess. + </p> + <p> + The Dean recommended her, Mrs. Cole approved of her birth, education and + sobriety, Mr. Cole liked the severity of her countenance when she came to + call, and she was engaged. + </p> + <p> + “Jeremy needs a tight hand,” said Mr. Cole. “It's no use having a young + girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Jones easily escapes that charge,” said Uncle Samuel, who had met + her in the hall. + </p> + <p> + The children were prepared to be good. Jeremy felt that it was time to + take life seriously. He put away his toy village, scolded Hamlet for + eating Mary's pincushion, and dragged out his dirty exercise-book in which + he did sums. + </p> + <p> + “I do hate sums!” he said, with a sigh, regarding the hideous smudges of + thumbs and tears that scored the page. “I shall never understand anything + about them.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll help you,” said Mary, who was greatly excited at the thought of a + governess. “We'll do them together.” + </p> + <p> + “No we won't,” said Jeremy, who hated to be dependent. + </p> + <p> + “I'll learn it myself—if only the paper didn't get dirty so + quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother says,” remarked Helen, “that she's had a very hard life, and no + one's ever been kind to her. 'She wants affection,' Mother says.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give her my napkin-ring that you gave me last Christmas, Mary,” said + Jeremy. “You don't mind, do you? It's all dirty now. I hope Hamlet won't + bark at her.” + </p> + <p> + Hamlet was worrying Mary's pincushion at the moment, holding it between + his paws, his body stretched out in quivering excitement, his short, + “snappy” tail, as Uncle Samuel called it, standing up straight in air. He + stopped for an instant when he heard his name, and shook one ear. + </p> + <p> + “Mother says,” continued Helen, “that she lived with a brother who never + gave her enough to eat.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy opened his eyes. This seemed to him a horrible thing. + </p> + <p> + “She shall have my porridge, if she likes,” he said; “I don't like it very + much. And I'll give her that chocolate that Mr. Jellybrand sent us. + There's still some, although it's rather damp now, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “How silly you are!” said Helen scornfully. “Of course, Mother will give + her anything she wants.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't silly,” said Jeremy. “Perhaps she'll want more than she really + wants. I often do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you!” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + “And if for ever so long,” said Jeremy, “she hasn't had enough to eat, + she'll want twice as big meals now as other people—to make up.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother says we've got to remember she's a lady,” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + “What's the difference,” asked Jeremy, “between a lady and not a lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are!” said Helen. “Why, Aunt Amy's a lady, and Rose isn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Rose is nicer,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones had, I am sorry to say, lied to Mrs. Cole in one particular. + She had told her that “she had had to do with children all her life,” the + fact being that on several occasions some little cousins had come to stay + with herself and her brother. On these occasions the little cousins had + been so paralysed with terror that discipline had not been difficult. It + was from these experiences that Miss Jones flattered herself that “she + understood children.” + </p> + <p> + So audacious a self-confidence is doomed to invite the scornful punishment + of the gods. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones arrived upon a wet January afternoon, one of those Glebeshire + days when the town sinks into a bath of mud and mist and all the pipes run + water and the eaves drip and horses splash and only ducks are happy. Out + of a blurred lamp-lit dusk stumbled Miss Jones's cab, and out of a blurred + unlit cab stumbled Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + As she stood in the hall trying to look warm and amiable, Mrs. Cole's + heart forsook her. On that earlier day of her visit Miss Jones had looked + possible, sitting up in Mrs. Cole's drawing-room, smiling her brightest, + because she so desperately needed the situation, and wearing her best + dress. Now she was all in pieces; she had had to leave her little village + early in the morning to catch the village bus; she had waited at wayside + stations, as in Glebeshire only one can wait; the world had dripped upon + her head and spattered upon her legs. She had neuralgia and a pain in her + back; she had worn her older dress because, upon such a day, it would not + do to travel in her best; and then, as a climax to everything, she had + left her umbrella in the train. How she could do such a thing upon such a + day! Her memory was not her strongest point, poor lady, and it was a good + umbrella, and she could not afford to buy another. Perhaps they would find + it for her, but it was very unlikely. + </p> + <p> + She had had it for a number of years. + </p> + <p> + She was a little woman, all skin and bone, with dried withered cheeks, a + large brown nose and protruding ears. Her face had formed severe lines in + self-defence against her brother, but her eyes were mild, and when she + smiled her mouth was rather pleasantly pathetic. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she'll never do,” thought Mrs. Cole, as she looked at her dripping in + the hall. + </p> + <p> + “I can't think how I forgot it,” said the poor lady, her mind fixed upon + her umbrella. “They said that perhaps they would find it for me, but there + was a man in my carriage, I remember, who will most certainly have taken + it—and it was a nice one with a silver handle.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Mrs. Cole cheerfully, “I'm sure they'll find it. You + must come up to the nursery—or the schoolroom I suppose we must call + it now; there's a lovely fire there, and we'll both have tea with the + children to-day, so as to feel at home, all of us, as quickly as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + What Miss Jones wanted was to lie down on a bed in a dark room and try and + conquer her neuralgia. The thought of a lighted nursery filled her with + dismay. However, first impressions are so important. She pulled herself + together. + </p> + <p> + The children had heard the arrival; they waited in a bunch by the fire, + their eyes partly fixed on the door, partly on the strawberry jam that + they were allowed to-day as a treat in the new governess's honour. Hamlet, + his eyes and ears also upon the door, expecting perhaps a rat, perhaps + Aunt Amy, sat in front of the group, its bodyguard. + </p> + <p> + “She's in the hall,” said Helen, “and now Mother's saying: 'Do take off + your things. You must be wet,' and now she's saying: 'You'll like to see + the children, I expect,' and now—” + </p> + <p> + There they were, standing in the doorway, Mrs. Cole and Miss Jones. There + followed a dismal pause. The children had not expected anyone so old and + so ugly as Miss Jones. Hamlet did not bark—nothing occurred. + </p> + <p> + At last Mrs. Cole said: “Now, children, come and say, 'How do you do?' to + Miss Jones. This is Helen, our eldest—this Mary—and this + Jeremy.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones did a dreadful thing. In her eagerness to be pleasant and + friendly she kissed the girls, and then, before anyone could stop her, + kissed Jeremy. He took it like a man, never turning his head nor wiping + his mouth with his hand afterwards, but she might have seen in his eyes, + had she looked, what he felt about it. + </p> + <p> + She said: “I hope we shall be happy together, dears.” + </p> + <p> + The children said nothing, and presently they all sat down to tea. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + It was unfortunate that there was so little precedent on both sides. Miss + Jones had never been a governess before and the children had never had + one. Of course, many mistakes were made. Miss Jones had had a true + admiration for what she used to call “her brother's indomitable spirit,” + her name for his selfishness and bad temper. She was herself neither + selfish nor bad-tempered, but she was ignorant, nervous, over-anxious, and + desperately afraid of losing her situation. She had during so many years + lived without affection that the wells of it had dried up within her, and + now, without being at all a bad old lady, she was simply preoccupied with + the business of managing her neuralgia, living on nothing a week, and + building to her deceased brother's memory a monument, of heroic character + and self-sacrifice. She was short-sighted and had a perpetual cold; she + was forgetful and careless. She had, nevertheless, a real knowledge of + many things, a warm heart somewhere could she be encouraged to look for it + again, and a sense of humour buried deep beneath her cares and + preoccupations. There were many worse persons in the world than Miss + Jones. But, most unfortunately, her love for her brother's memory led her + to resolve on what she called “firmness.” Mrs. Cole had told her that + Jeremy was “getting too much” for his nurse; she approached Jeremy with + exactly the tremors and quaking boldness that she would have summoned to + her aid before a bull loose in a field. She really did look frightening + with her large spectacles on the end of her large nose, her mouth firmly + set, and a ruler in her hand. “I insist on absolute obedience,” was her + motto. Jeremy looked at her but said no word. It was made clear to them + all that the new regime was to be far other than the earlier nursery one. + There were to be regular lesson hours—nine to twelve and four to + five. A neat piece of white paper was fastened to the wall with “Monday: + Geography 9-10, Arithmetic 10-11,” and so on. A careful graduation of + punishments was instituted, copies to be written so many times, standing + on a chair, three strokes on the hand with a ruler, and, worst of all, + standing in the corner wearing a paper Dunce's cap. (This last she had + read of in books.) At first Jeremy had every intention of behaving well, + in spite of that unfortunate embrace. He was proud of his advance in life; + he was no longer a baby; the nursery was now a schoolroom; he stayed up an + hour later at night; he was to be allowed twopence a week pocket-money; + his whole social status had risen. He began to read for pleasure, and + discovered that it was easier than he had expected, so that he passed + quite quickly through “Lottie's Visit to Grandmama” into “Stumps” and out + again in “Jackanapes.” He heard some elder say that the road to a large + fortune lay through “Sums,” and, although this seemed to him an extremely + mysterious statement, he determined to give the theory a chance. In fact, + he sat down the first day at the schoolroom table, Mary and Helen on each + side of him, and Miss Jones facing them, with fine resolves and high + ambitions. Before him lay a pure white page, and at the head of this the + noble words in a running hand: “Slow and steady wins the race.” He grasped + his pencil, and Miss Jones, eager to lose no time in asserting her + authority, cried: “But that's not the way to hold your pencil, Jeremy, + your thumb so, your finger so.” He scowled and found that lifting his + thumb over the pencil was as difficult as lifting Hamlet over a gate. He + made a bold attempt, but the pencil refused to move. + </p> + <p> + “Can't hold it that way,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You must never say 'can't,' Jeremy,” remarked Miss Jones. “There isn't + such a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said Mary eagerly, “there is; I've seen it in books.” + </p> + <p> + “You musn't contradict, Mary,” said Miss Jones. “I only meant that you + must behave as though there isn't, because nothing is impossible to one + who truly tries.” + </p> + <p> + “My pencil waggles this way,” said Jeremy politely. “I think I'll hold it + the old way, please.” + </p> + <p> + “There's only one way of doing anything,” said Miss Jones, “and that's the + right way.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the right way for me,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “If I say it's not the right way—” + </p> + <p> + “But it waggles,” cried Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + The discussion was interrupted by a cry from Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do look, Miss Jones, Hamlet's got your spectacle-case. He thinks it's + a mouse.” + </p> + <p> + There followed general confusion. Miss Jones jumped up, and, with little + cries of distress, pursued Hamlet, who hastened into his favourite corner + and began to worry the spectacle-case, with one eye on Miss Jones and one + on his spoils. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy hurried up crying: “Put it down, Hamlet, naughty dog, naughty dog,” + and Mary and Helen laughed with frantic delight. + </p> + <p> + At last Miss Jones, her face red and her hair in disorder, rescued her + property and returned to the table, Hamlet meanwhile wagging his tail, + panting and watching for a further game. + </p> + <p> + “I can't possibly,” said Miss Jones, “allow that dog in here during lesson + hours. It's impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but Miss Jones—” began Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Not one word,” said she, “let us have no more of this. Lead him from the + room, Jeremy!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Miss Jones, he must be here. He's learning too. In a day or two + he'll be as good as anything, really he will. He's so intelligent. He + really thought it was his to play with, and he did give it up, didn't he, + as soon as I said—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough,” said Miss Jones, “I will listen to no more. I say he is not to + remain—” + </p> + <p> + “But if I promise—” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + Then Miss Jones made a bad mistake. Wearied of the argument, wishing to + continue the lesson, and hoping perhaps to please her tormentors, she said + meekly: + </p> + <p> + “Well, if he really is good, perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + From that instant her doom was sealed. The children exchanged a glance of + realisation. Jeremy smiled. The lesson was continued. What possessed + Jeremy now? What possesses any child, naturally perhaps, of a kindly and + even sentimental nature at the sight of something helpless and in its + power? Is there any cruelty in after life like the cruelty of a small boy, + and is there anything more powerful, more unreasoning, and more malicious + than the calculating tortures that small children devise for those weaker + than themselves? Jeremy was possessed with a new power. + </p> + <p> + It was something almost abstract in its manifestations; it was something + indecent, sinister, secret, foreign to his whole nature felt by him now + for the first time, unanalysed, of course, but belonging, had he known it, + to that world of which afterwards he was often to catch glimpses, that + world of shining white faces in dark streets, of muffled cries from + shuttered windows, of muttered exclamations, half caught, half understood. + He was never again to be quite free from the neighbourhood of that + half-world; he would never be quite sure of his dominance of it until he + died. + </p> + <p> + He had never felt anything like this power before. With the Jampot his + relations had been quite simple; he had been rebellious, naughty, + disobedient, and had been punished, and there was an end. Now there was a + game like tracking Red Indians in the prairie or tigers in the jungle. + </p> + <p> + He watched Miss Jones and discovered many things about her. He discovered + that when she made mistakes in the things that she taught them she was + afraid to confess to her mistakes, and so made them worse and worse. He + discovered that she was very nervous, and that a sudden noise made her + jump and turn white and put her hand to her heart. He discovered that she + would punish him and then try to please him by saying he need not finish + his punishment. He discovered that she would lose things, like her + spectacles, her handkerchief, or her purse, and then be afraid to confess + that she had lost them and endeavour to proceed without them. He + discovered that she hated to hit him on the hand with a ruler (he scarcely + felt the strokes). He discovered that when his mother or father was in the + room she was terrified lest he should misbehave. + </p> + <p> + He discovered that she was despised by the servants, who quite openly + insulted her. + </p> + <p> + All these things fed his sense of power. He did not consider her a human + being at all; she was simply something upon which he could exercise his + ingenuity and cleverness. Mary followed him in whatever he did; Helen + pretended to be superior, but was not. Yes, Miss Jones was in the hands of + her tormentors, and there was no escape for her. + </p> + <p> + Surely it must have been some outside power that drove Jeremy on. The + children called it “teasing Miss Jones,” and the aboriginal savagery in + their behaviour was as unconscious as their daily speech or fashion of + eating their food—some instinct inherited, perhaps, from the days + when the gentleman with the biggest muscles extracted for his daily + amusement the teeth and nails of his less happily muscular friends. + </p> + <p> + There were many games to be played with Miss Jones. She always began her + morning with a fine show of authority, accumulated, perhaps, during hours + of Spartan resolution whilst the rest of the household slept. “To-morrow + I'll see that they do what I tell them—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, children,” she would say, “I'm determined to stand no nonsense this + morning. Get out your copy books.” Five minutes later would begin: “Oh, + Miss Jones, I can't write with this pencil. May I find a better one?” + Granted permission, Mary's head and large spectacles would disappear + inside the schoolroom cupboard. Soon Jeremy would say very politely: “Miss + Jones, I think I know where it is. May I help her to find it?” Then + Jeremy's head would disappear. There would follow giggles, whispers, again + giggles; then from the cupboard a book tumbles, then another, then + another. Then Miss Jones would say: “Now, Jeremy, come back to the table. + You've had quite enough time—” interrupted by a perfect avalanche of + books. Mary crying: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jeremy!” Jeremy crying: “I didn't; it was you!” Miss Jones: “Now, + children—” + </p> + <p> + Then Jeremy, very politely: + </p> + <p> + “Please, Miss Jones, may I help Mary to pick the books up? There are + rather a lot.” Then, both on their knees, more whispers and giggles. Miss + Jones, her voice trembling: “Children, I really insist—” And more + books dropped, and more whispers and more protests, and so on ad + infinitum. A beautiful game to be played all the morning. + </p> + <p> + Or there was the game of Not Hearing. Miss Jones would say: “And twice two + are four.” Mary would repeat loudly: “And twice two is five—” + </p> + <p> + “Four, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I thought you said five.” + </p> + <p> + And then a second later Jeremy would ask: + </p> + <p> + “Did you say four or five, Miss Jones?” + </p> + <p> + “I told Mary I said four—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've written five—and now it's all wrong. Didn't you write + five, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've written five. You did say four, didn't you, Miss Jones?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes. And three makes—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say made five?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say five. I said four. Twice two.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that as well as 'add three,' Miss Jones? I've got twice two, and then + add three, and then twice two—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I was only telling Jeremy—” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Miss Jones, would you mind beginning again—” + </p> + <p> + This is a very unpleasant game for a lady with neuralgia. + </p> + <p> + Or there is the game of Making a Noise. At this game, without any earlier + training or practice, Jeremy was a perfect master. The three children + would be sitting there very, very quiet, learning the first verse of + “Tiger, Tiger, burning bright—” A very gentle creaking sound would + break the stillness—a creaking sound that can be made, if you are + clever, by rubbing a boot against a boot. It would not come regularly, but + once, twice, thrice, a pause, and then once, twice and another pause. + </p> + <p> + “Who's making a noise?” + </p> + <p> + Dead silence. A very long pause, and then it would begin again. + </p> + <p> + “That noise must cease, I say. Jeremy, what are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + He would lift to her then eyes full of meekness and love. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Miss Jones.” + </p> + <p> + Soon it would begin again. Miss Jones would be silent this time, and then + Mary would speak. + </p> + <p> + “Please, would you ask Jeremy not to rub his boots together? I can't learn + my verse—” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know I was,” says Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + Then it would begin again. Jeremy would say: + </p> + <p> + “Please, may I take my boots off?” + </p> + <p> + “Take your boots off? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “They will rub together, and I can't stop them, because I don't know when + I do it, and it is hard for Mary—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not! I never heard of such a thing! Next time you do it you + must stand on your chair.” + </p> + <p> + Soon Jeremy is standing on his chair. Soon his poetry book drops with a + terrible crash to the ground, and five million pins stab Miss Jones's + heart. With white face and trembling hands, she says: + </p> + <p> + “Go and stand in the corner, Jeremy! I shall have to speak to your + mother!” + </p> + <p> + He goes, grinning at Mary, and stands there knowing that his victim is + watching the door in an agony lest Mrs. Cole should suddenly come in and + inquire what Jeremy had done, and that so the whole story of his + insubordination be revealed and Miss Jones lose her situation for + incapacity. + </p> + <p> + How did he discover this final weakness of Miss Jones? No one told him; + but he knew, and, as the days passed, rejoiced in his power and his might + and his glory. + </p> + <p> + Then came the climax. The children were not perfectly sure whether, after + all, Miss Jones might not tell their mother. They did not wish this to + happen, and so long as this calamity was possible they were not complete + masters of the poor lady. Then came a morning when they had been extremely + naughty, when every game had been played and every triumph scored. Miss + Jones, almost in tears, had threatened four times that the Powers Above + should be informed. Suddenly Mrs. Cole entered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Jones, how have the children been this morning? If they've + been good I have a little treat to propose.” + </p> + <p> + The children waited, their eyes upon their governess. Her eyes stared back + upon her tormentors. Her hands worked together. She struggled. Why not + call in Mrs. Cole's authority to her aid? No; she knew what it would mean—“I'm + very sorry, Miss Jones, but I think a younger governess, perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + Her throat moved. + </p> + <p> + “They've been very good this morning, Mrs. Cole.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of Mary and of Jeremy were alight with triumph. + </p> + <p> + They had won their final victory. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + I know what Miss Jones suffered during those weeks. She was not an old + lady of very great power of resistance, and it must have positively + terrified her that these small children should so vindictively hate her. + She could not have seen it as anything but hatred, being entirely ignorant + of children and the strange forces to whose power they are subject, and + she must have shivered in her bedroom at the dreariness and terror of the + prospect before her. Many, many times she must have resolved not to be + beaten, and many, many times she must have admitted herself beaten as + badly as any one can be. + </p> + <p> + Her life with the people downstairs was not intimate enough, nor were + those people themselves perceptive enough for any realisation of what was + occurring to penetrate. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you're happy with the children, Miss Jones,” once or twice said + Mrs. Cole. + </p> + <p> + “Very, thank you,” said Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + “They're good children, I think, although parents are always prejudiced, + of course. Jeremy is a little difficult perhaps. It's so hard to tell what + he's really thinking. You find him a quiet, reserved little boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” said Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + “In a little while, when you know him better, he will come out. Only you + have to let him take his time. He doesn't like to be forced—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, that morning descent into the schoolroom was real hell for her. + She had to summon up her courage, walking about her bedroom, pressing her + hands together, evoking the memory of her magnificent iron-souled brother, + who would, she knew, despise such tremors. If only she could have + discovered some remedy! But sentiment, attempted tyranny, anger, contempt, + at all these things they laughed. She could not touch them anywhere. And + she saw Jeremy as a real child of Evil in the very baldest sense. She + could not imagine how anyone so young could be so cruel, so heartless, so + maliciously clever in his elaborate machinations. She regarded him with + real horror, and on the occasions when she found him acting kindly towards + his sisters or a servant, or when she watched him discoursing solemnly to + Hamlet, she was helplessly puzzled, and decided that these better + manifestations were simply masks to hide his devilish young heart. She + perceived meanwhile the inevitable crisis slowly approaching, when she + would be compelled to invite Mrs. Cole's support. That would mean her + dismissal and a hopeless future. There was no one to whom she might turn. + She had not a relation, not a friend—too late to make friends now. + </p> + <p> + She could see nothing in front of her at all. + </p> + <p> + The crisis did come, but not as she expected it. + </p> + <p> + There arrived a morning when the dark mist outside and badly made porridge + inside tempted the children to their very worst. Miss Jones had had a + wakeful night struggling with neuralgia and her own hesitating spirit. The + children had lost even their customary half-humourous, half-contemptuous + reserve. They let themselves appear for what they were—infant + savages discontented with food, weather and education. + </p> + <p> + I will not detail the incidents of that morning. The episodes that were on + other mornings games were today tortures. There was the Torture of Losing + Things, the Torture of Not Hearing, the Torture of Many Noises, the + Torture of Sudden Alarm, the Torture of Outright Defiance, the Torture of + Expressed Contempt. When twelve struck and the children were free, Miss + Jones was not far from a nervous panic that can be called, without any + exaggeration, incipient madness. The neuralgia tore at her brain, her own + self-contempt tore at her heart, her baffled impotence bewildered and + blinded her. She did not leave the schoolroom with the children, but went + to the broad window-sill and sat there looking out into the dreary + prospect. Then, suddenly for no reason except general weakness and + physical and spiritual collapse she began to cry. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy was considered to have a cold, and was, therefore, not permitted to + accompany his mother and sisters on an exciting shopping expedition, which + would certainly lead as far as old Poole's, the bookseller, and might even + extend to Martins', the pastrycook, who made lemon biscuits next door to + the Cathedral. He was, therefore, in a very bad temper indeed when he + returned sulkily to the schoolroom. He stood for a moment there unaware + that there was anybody in the room, hesitating as to whether he should + continue “A Flat Iron for a Farthing” or hunt up Hamlet. Suddenly he heard + the sound of sobbing. He turned and saw Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + He would have fled had flight been in any way possible, but she had looked + up and seen him, and her sudden arrested sniff held them both there as + though by some third invisible power. He saw that she was crying; he saw + her red nose, mottled cheeks, untidy hair. It was the most awful moment of + his young life. He had never seen a grown-up person cry before; he had no + idea that they ever did cry. He had, indeed, never realised that grown-up + persons had any active histories at all, any histories in the sense in + which he and Mary had them. They were all a background, simply a + background that blew backwards and forwards like tapestry according to + one's need of them. His torture of Miss Jones had been founded on no sort + of realisation of her as a human being; she had been a silly old woman, of + course, but just as the battered weather-beaten Aunt Sally in the garden + was a silly old woman. + </p> + <p> + Her crying horrified, terrified, and disgusted him. It was all so dreary, + the horrible weather outside, the beginning of a cold in his head, the + schoolroom fire almost out, everyone's bad temper, including his own, and + this sudden horrible jumping-to-life of a grown-up human being. She, + meanwhile, was too deeply involved now in the waters of her affliction to + care very deeply who saw her or what anyone said to her. She did feel + dimly that she ought not to be crying in front of a small boy of eight + years old, and that it would be better to hide herself in her bedroom, but + she did not mind—she COULD not mind—her neuralgia was too bad. + </p> + <p> + “It's the neuralgia in my head,” she said in a muffled confused voice. + That he could understand. He also had pains in his head. He drew closer to + her, flinging a longing backward look at the door. She went on in + convulsed tones: + </p> + <p> + “It's the pain—awake all night, and the lessons. I can't make them + attend; they learn nothing. They're not afraid of me—they hate me. + I've never really known children before—” + </p> + <p> + He did not know what to say. Had it been Mary or Helen the formula would + have been simple. He moved his legs restlessly one against the other. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones went on: + </p> + <p> + “And now, of course, I must go. It's quite impossible for me to stay when + I manage so badly—” She looked up and suddenly realised that it was + truly Jeremy. “You're only a little boy, but you know very well that I + can't manage you. And then where am I to go to? No one will take me after + I've been such a failure.” + </p> + <p> + The colour stole into his cheeks. He was immensely proud. No grown-up + person had ever before spoken to him as though he was himself a grown-up + person—always laughing at him like Uncle Samuel, or talking down to + him like Aunt Amy, or despising him like Mr. Jellybrand. But Miss Jones + appealed to him simply as one grown-up to another. Unfortunately he did + not in the least know what to say. The only thing he could think of at the + moment was: “You can have my handkerchief, if you like. It's pretty clean—” + </p> + <p> + But she went on: “If my brother had been alive he would have advised me. + He was a splendid man. He rowed in his college boat when he was at + Cambridge, but that, of course, was forty years ago. He could keep + children in order. I thought it would be so easy. Perhaps if my health had + been better it wouldn't have been so hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Do your pains come often?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. They're very bad.” + </p> + <p> + “I have them, too,” said Jeremy. “It's generally, I expect, because I eat + too much—at least, the Jampot used to say so. They're in my head + sometimes, too. And then I'm really sick. Do you feel sick?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones began to pull herself together. She wiped her eyes and patted + her hair. + </p> + <p> + “It's my neuralgia,” she said again. “It's from my eyes partly, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “It's better to be sick,” continued Jeremy, “if you can be—” + </p> + <p> + She flung him then a desperate look, as though she were really an animal + at bay. + </p> + <p> + “You see, I can't go away,” she said. “I've nowhere to go to. I've no + friends, nor relations, and no one will take me for their children, if + Mrs. Cole says I can't keep order.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I suppose you'd go to the workhouse,” continued Jeremy, pursuing her + case with excited interest. “That's what the Jampot always used to say, + that one day she'd end in the workhouse; and that's a horrible place, SHE + said, where there was nothing but porridge to eat, and sometimes they took + all your clothes off and scrubbed your back with that hard yellow soap + they wash Hamlet with.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes grew wide with the horrible picture. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Jones, you mustn't go there!” + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind,” she said, “just getting me some water from the jug over + there? There's a glass there.” + </p> + <p> + Still proud of the level to which he had been raised, but puzzled beyond + any words as to this new realisation of Miss Jones, he fetched her the + water, then, standing quite close to her, he said: + </p> + <p> + “You must stay with us, always.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him, and they exchanged a glance. + </p> + <p> + With that glance Miss Jones learnt more about children than she had ever + learnt before—more, indeed, than most people learn in all their + mortal lives. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stay,” she said, and she even smiled a little, “if you're always + naughty.” + </p> + <p> + “We won't be naughty any more.” He sighed. “It was great fun, of course, + but we won't do it any more. We never knew you minded.” + </p> + <p> + “Never knew I minded?” + </p> + <p> + “At least, we never thought about you at all. Helen did sometimes. She + said you had a headache when you were very yellow in the morning, but I + said it was only because you were old. But we'll be good now. I'll tell + them too—” + </p> + <p> + Then he added: “But you won't go away now even if we're not always good? + We won't always be, I suppose; and I'm going to school in September, and + it will be better then, I expect. I'm too old, really, to learn with girls + now.” + </p> + <p> + She wanted terribly to kiss him, and, had she done so, the whole good work + of the last quarter of an hour would have been undone. He was aware of her + temptation; he felt it in the air. She saw the warning in his eyes. The + moment passed. + </p> + <p> + “You won't go away, will you?” he said again. + </p> + <p> + “Not if you're good,” she said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + Half an hour later, when Mary and Helen returned from their walk, they + were addressed by Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “She was crying because we'd been so naughty, and she had pains in her + head, and her brother was dead. Her brother was very strong, and he used + to row in a boat forty years ago. She told me all about it, just as though + I'd been Aunt Amy or Mother. And she says that if we go on being naughty + she'll go away, and no one else will have her, because they'll hear about + our having been naughty. And I told her about the workhouse and the + porridge and the yellow soap that the Jampot told us of, and it would be + awful if she went there because of us, wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Awful,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + But Helen said: “She wouldn't go there. She'd take a little house, like + Miss Dobell, and have tea-parties on Thursdays—somewhere near the + Cathedral.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she wouldn't!” said Jeremy excitedly. “How could she take a little + house if she hadn't any money? She told me she hadn't, and no friends, nor + nobody, and she cried like anything—” He paused for breath, then + concluded: “So we've got to be good now, and learn sums, and not make her + jump. Really and truly, we must.” + </p> + <p> + “I always thought you were very silly to make so much noise,” said Helen + in a superior fashion. “You and Mary—babies!” + </p> + <p> + “We're not babies,” shouted Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are.” + </p> + <p> + “No, we're not.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones was no longer the subject of the conversation. + </p> + <p> + That same day it happened that rumours were brought to Mrs. Cole through + Rose, the housemaid, or some other medium for the first time, of Miss + Jones's incapacity. + </p> + <p> + That evening Jeremy was spending his last half-hour before bedtime in his + mother's room happily in a corner with his toy village. He suddenly heard + his mother say to Aunt Amy: + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid Miss Jones won't do. I thought she was managing the children, + but now I hear that she can't keep order at all. I'm sorry—it's so + difficult to get anyone.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy sprang up from the floor, startling the ladies, who had forgotten + that he was there. + </p> + <p> + “She's all right,” he cried. “Really she is, Mother. We're going to be as + good as anything, really we are. You won't send her away, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Jeremy,” his mother said, “I'd forgotten you were there. Rose + says you don't do anything Miss Jones tells you.” + </p> + <p> + “Rose is silly,” he answered. “She doesn't know anything about it. But you + will keep her, won't you, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—if she can't manage you—” + </p> + <p> + “But she can manage us. We'll be good as anything, I promise. You will + keep her, won't you, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Jeremy,” said Aunt Amy, “to bother your mother so! And it's + nearly time you went to bed.” + </p> + <p> + He brushed her aside. “You will keep her, Mother, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends, dear,” said Mrs. Cole, laughing. “You see—” + </p> + <p> + “No—we'll be bad with everyone else,” he cried. “We will, really—everyone + else. And we'll be good with Miss Jones.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so long as you're good, dear,” she said. “I'd no idea you liked her + so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's all right,” he said. “But it isn't that—” Then he + stopped; he couldn't explain—especially with that idiot Aunt Amy + there, who'd only laugh at him, or kiss him, or something else horrible. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards, as he went slowly up to bed, he stopped for a moment in the + dark passage thinking. The whole house was silent about him, only the + clocks whispering. + </p> + <p> + What a tiresome bother Aunt Amy was! How he wished that she were dead! And + what a bore it would be being good now with Miss Jones. At the same time, + the renewed consciousness of her personal drama most strangely moved him—her + brother who rowed, her neuralgia, her lack of relations. Perhaps Aunt Amy + also had an exciting history! Perhaps she also cried! + </p> + <p> + The world seemed to be suddenly filled with pressing, thronging figures, + all with businesses of their own. + </p> + <p> + It was very odd. + </p> + <p> + He pushed back the schoolroom door and blinked at the sudden light. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE SEA-CAPTAIN + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + Very few matter-of-fact citizens of the present-day world will understand + the part that the sea used to play in our young lives thirty years ago in + Polchester. + </p> + <p> + It is very easy to look at the map and say that the sea is a considerable + distance from Polchester, and that even if you stood on the highest ridge + of the highest cornfield above the town you would not be able to catch the + faintest glimpse of it. That may be true, although I myself can never be + completely assured, possessing so vividly as I do a memory of a day when I + stood with my nurse at the edge of Merazion Woods and, gazing out to the + horizon, saw a fleet of ships full-sail upon the bluest of seas, and would + not be persuaded that it was merely wrack of clouds. That may be or no; + the fact remains that Polchester sniffed the sea from afar, was caught + with sea breezes and bathed in reflected sea-lights; again and again of an + evening the Cathedral sailed on dust and shadow towards the horizon, a + great white ghost of a galleon, and the young citizens of the town with + wondering eyes, watched it go. But there were more positive influences + than mere cloud and light. We had, in the lower part of our town, sailors, + quite a number of them. There were the old white-bearded ones who would + sit upon tubs and tell smuggling tales; these haunted the River Pol, + fished in it, ferried people across it, and let out boats for hire. There + were younger sailors who, tired of the still life of their little villages + and dreading the real hard work of a life at sea, lurched and slouched by + the Pol's river bed, fishing a little, sleeping, eating and drinking a + great deal. + </p> + <p> + And there were the true sailors, passing through perhaps on their way to + Drymouth to join their ships, staying in the town for a day or two to + visit their relations, or simply stopping for an hour or so to gaze + open-mouthed at the Cathedral and the market-place and the Canons and the + old women. These men had sometimes gold rings in their ears, and their + faces were often coloured a dark rich brown, and they carried bundles + across their backs all in the traditional style. + </p> + <p> + Then there were influences more subtle than either clouds or men. There + were the influences of the places that we had ourselves seen in our summer + holidays—Rafiel and St. Lowe, Marion Bay or Borhaze—and, on + the other coast, Newbock with its vast stretch of yellow sand, St. Borse + with its wild seas and giant Borse Head, or St. Nails-in-Cove with its + coloured rocks and sparkling shells. Every child had his own place; my + place was, like Jeremy's, Rafiel, and a better, more beautiful place, in + the whole world you will not find. And each place has its own legend: at + Rafiel the Gold lured Pirates, and the Turnip-Field; at Polwint the Giant + Excise Man; at Borhaze the Smugglers of Trezent Rock; at St. Borse the + wreck of “The Golden Galleon” in the year 1563, with its wonderful + treasure; and at St. Maitsin Cove the famous Witch of St. Maitsin Church + Town who turned men's bones into water and filled St. Maitsin Church with + snakes. Back from one summer holiday, treasuring these stories together + with our collections of shells and seaweed and dried flowers, we came, and + so the tales settled in Polchester streets and crept into the heart of the + Polchester cobbles and haunted the Polchester corners by the fire, and + even invaded with their romantic, peering, mischievous faces the solemn + aisles of the Cathedral itself. + </p> + <p> + The sea was at the heart of all of them, and whenever a sea-breeze blew + down the street carrying with it wisps of straw from the field, or + dandelion seeds, or smell of sea-pinks, we children lifted our noses and + sniffed and sniffed and saw the waves curl in across the shore, or + breakers burst upon the rock, and whispered to one another of the + Smugglers of Trezent or the Gold-laced Pirates of Rafiel. + </p> + <p> + But I think that none of us adored the sea as Jeremy did. From that first + moment when, as a small baby, he had been held up in Rafiel Cove to see + the tops of the waves catch the morning light as they rolled over to + shore, he had adored it. He had never felt any fear of it; he had been + able to swim since he could remember, and he simply lived for those days + at the end of July when they would all, in a frantic hurry and confusion, + take the train for Rafiel and arrive at Cow Farm in the evening, with the + roar of the sea coming across the quiet fields to mingle with the lowing + of the cows and the bleating of the sheep. He had in his bedroom a + wonderful collection of dusty and sticky sea-shells, and these he would + turn over and over, letting them run through his fingers as a miner counts + his gold. + </p> + <p> + Let him catch the faintest glimpse of a shadow of a sailor in the street + and he was after it, and he had once, when he was only four or five, been + caught by the terrified Jampot, only just in time, walking away + confidently down the market-place, his hand in the huge grasp of a + villainous looking mariner. He was exceedingly happy in his home, but he + did often wonder whether he would not run away to sea; of course, he was + going to be a sailor, but it seemed so long to wait until he was thirteen + or fourteen, and there was the sea all the time rolling in and out and + inviting him to come. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cole warned Miss Jones of this taste of Jeremy's: “Never let him + speak to a sailor, Miss Jones. There are some horrible men in the town, + and Jeremy simply is not to be trusted when sailors are concerned.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones, however, could not be always on her guard, and Fate is + stronger than any governess... + </p> + <p> + Early in February there came one of those hints of spring that in + Glebeshire more than in any other place in the world thrill and stir the + heart. Generally they give very little in actual reward and are followed + by weeks of hail and sleet and wind, but for that reason alone their + burning promise is beyond all other promises beguiling. Jeremy got up one + morning to feel that somewhere behind the thick wet mists of the early + hours there was a blazing sun. After breakfast, opening the window and + leaning out, he could see the leaves of the garden still shining with + their early glitter and the earth channelled into fissures and breaks, + dark and hard under the silver-threaded frost; beneath the rind of the + soil he could feel the pushing, heaving life struggling to answer the call + of the sun above it. Far down the road towards the Orchards a dim veil of + gold was spreading behind the walls of mist; the sparrows on the almond + tree near his window chattered like the girls of the High School, and blue + shadows stole into the dim grey sky, just as light breaks upon an early + morning sea; the air was warm behind the outer wall of the frosty morning, + and the faint gold of the first crocus beneath the garden wall near the + pantry door, where always the first crocuses came, caught his eye. Even as + he watched the sun burst the mist, the trees changed from dim grey to + sharp black, the blue flooded the sky, and the Cathedral beyond the trees + shone like a house of crystal. + </p> + <p> + All this meant spring, and spring meant hunting for snowdrops in the + Meads. Jeremy informed Miss Jones, and Miss Jones was, of course, + agreeable. They would walk that way after luncheon. + </p> + <p> + The Meads fall in a broad green slope from the old Cathedral battlement + down to the River Pol. Their long stretches of meadow are scattered with + trees, some of the oldest oaks in Glebeshire, and they are finally bounded + by the winding path of the Rope Walk that skirts the river bank. Along the + Rope Walk in March and April the daffodils first, and the primroses + afterwards, are so thick that, from the Cathedral walls, the Rope Walk + looks as though it wandered between pools and lakes of gold. In the + Orchards on the hill also they run like rivers. + </p> + <p> + Upon this afternoon there were only the trees, faintly pink, along the + river and the wide unbroken carpet of green. Miss Jones walked up and down + the Rope Walk, whilst Mary told her an endless and exceedingly confused + story that had begun more than a week ago and had reached by now such a + state of “To be continued in our next” that Miss Jones had only the + vaguest idea of what it was all about. Her mind therefore wandered, as + indeed, did always the minds of Mary's audiences, and Mary never noticed + but stared with the rapt gaze of the creator through her enormous glasses, + out into an enchanted world of golden princesses, white elephants and + ropes and ropes of rubies. Miss Jones meanwhile thought of her young days, + her illnesses and a certain hat that she had seen in Thornley's windows in + the High Street. Jeremy, attended by Hamlet, hunted amongst the trees for + snowdrops. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet had been worried ever since he could remember by a theory about + rabbits. He had been told, of course, about rabbits by his parents, and it + had even been suggested to him that he would be a mighty hunter of the + same when he grew to a certain age. He had now reached that age, but never + a rabbit as yet had he encountered. He might even have concluded that the + whole Rabbit story was a myth and a legend were it not that certain scents + and odours were for ever tantalising his nose that could, his instinct + told him, mean Rabbit and only Rabbit. These scents met him at the most + tantalising times, pulling him this way and that, exciting the wildest + hopes in him, afterwards condemned to sterility; as ghosts haunt the + convinced and trusting spiritualist, so did rabbits haunt Hamlet. He + dreamt of Rabbits at night, he tasted Rabbits in his food, he saw them + scale the air and swim the stream—now, he was close on their trail, + now he had them round that tree, up that hill, down that hole... sitting + tranquilly in front of the schoolroom fire he would scent them; always + they eluded him, laughed at him, mocked him with their stumpy tails. They + were rapidly becoming the obsession of his nights and days. + </p> + <p> + Upon this afternoon the air was full of Rabbit. The Meads seemed to + breathe Rabbit. He left his master, rushed hither and thither, barked and + whined, scratched the soil, ran round the trees, lay cautiously motionless + waiting for his foes, and now and then sat and laughed at himself for a + ludicrous rabbit-bemused idiot. He had a delightful afternoon... + </p> + <p> + Jeremy then was left entirely to himself and wandered about, looking for + snowdrops under the trees, talking to himself, lost in a chain of ideas + that included food and the sea and catapults and a sore finger and what + school would be like and whether he could knock down the Dean's youngest, + Ernest, whom he hated without knowing why. + </p> + <p> + He was lost in these thoughts, and had indeed wandered almost into the + little wood that lies at the foot of the Orchards, when he heard a deep + rich voice say: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you 'aven't such a thing as a match upon you anywhere, young + gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + He liked to be asked for a match, a manly thing to be supposed to possess, + but, of course, he hadn't one, owing to the stupidity of elderly + relations, so he looked up and said politely: “No, I'm afraid I haven't.” + Then how his heart whacked beneath his waistcoat! There, standing in front + of him, was the very figure of his dreams! Looking down upon Jeremy was a + gentleman of middle-age whom experienced men of the world would have most + certainly described as “seedy.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy did not see his “seediness.” He saw first his face, which was of a + deep brown copper colour, turning here and there to a handsome purple; + ill-shaved, perhaps, but with a fine round nose and a large smiling mouth. + He saw black curling hair and a yachting cap, faded this last and the + white of it a dirty grey but set on jauntily at a magnificent angle. He + saw a suit of dark navy blue, this again faded, spotted too with many + stains, ragged at the trouser-ends and even torn in one place above the + elbow, fitting also so closely to the figure that it must have been at + bursting point. He saw round the neck a dark navy handkerchief, and down + the front of the coat brass buttons that shook and trembled as their + owner's chest heaved. + </p> + <p> + And what a chest! Jeremy had never conceived that any human being could be + so thick and so broad. The back, spreading to the farthest limits of the + shiny seams of the coat, was like a wall. The thighs were pillows, the + arms bolsters and yet not fat, mind you, simply muscle, all of it. One + could see in a minute that it was all muscle, the chest thrust forward, + the legs spread wide, the bull-neck bursting the handkerchief, everything + that Jeremy himself most wished to be. A sailor, a monument of strength, + with the scent of his “shag” strong enough to smell a mile away, and—yes, + most marvellous of all, gold rings in his ears! His chest would be tatooed + probably, and perhaps his legs also! + </p> + <p> + There, on the back of his hand, was a blue anchor.... Jeremy looked up and + trembled lest the vision should fade, then flung a hurried look around him + to see whether Miss Jones were near. No one was about. He was alone with + the desire of his life. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so so sorry I haven't a match,” he said. “I'm not allowed to have + them, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not,” said the vision. “Just my blamed luck. There I am + with 'undreds of pounds lying around my room at 'ome careless as you + please, and then held up for a bloomin' match. What's gold to a man like + me? But a match... there you are... that's life.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at Jeremy with great interest; he took in, as Jeremy realised, + every detail of his personal appearance. + </p> + <p> + “I like boys,” he said. “'Ad two myself—'ealthy little nippers they + was. Both dead-'ere to-day and gone to-morrer, as you might say. Got your + nurse 'anging around anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse?” said Jeremy indignantly. “I don't have a nurse. I'm much too old! + There is a governess, but she's over there talking to Mary. She's my + sister—but they won't bother yet—not till the Cathedral bell + begins.” + </p> + <p> + “No intention of 'urting your feelings, young fellow my lad. Didn't think + you'd want a nurse of course—big chap like you. Thought you might + 'ave a baby brother or such. No offence—I suppose you 'aven't begun + to smoke yet. Can't offer you some tobacco.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy coloured. The man was laughing at him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm eight if you want to know,” he said, “and I'm going to school in + September.” + </p> + <p> + “School!” said the mariner, sniffing contemptuously. “I don't think much + of school if you ask me. Now I never went to school, and I can't see that + I'm much the worse for not 'aving been there. Contrariwise—I've seen + many a fine promising lad spoiled by too much schoolin'. Be a man of the + world, I say; that's the direction you want to sail in.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you really never go to school?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” relied the sailor. “Flung out at the age of six, I was, turned + into a boat sailing to the West Indies and left to shift for myself—and + 'ere I am to-day a Captain of as fine a craft as you're ever likely to + see, with gold in 'er lockers and peacocks in the 'old—all in a + manner of speaking, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy's eyes glittered; his face was flushed a brilliant red. Hamlet had + returned from his rabbit hunting and sat with his tongue out and a wild + adventurous eye glittering up at his master from behind his hair, yet he + was not noticed. + </p> + <p> + “You were very lucky,” he said devoutly, then he went on hurriedly: “Would + you mind—you see, Miss Jones may come at any moment—would you + mind—” he choked. + </p> + <p> + “Would I mind what?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind telling me? Are you tatooed on your body, snakes and ships + and things, like a gardener once we had? He had a sea-serpent all down his + back. He showed me one day.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain smiled proudly. + </p> + <p> + “Tatooed! Talk of tatooing! I'll show yer—and it isn't everybody I'd + do it for neither. But I've taken a fancy to you, like my own young nipper + what died.” + </p> + <p> + With an air of vast ceremony, as though he were throwing open the door to + all the universe, he slowly unwound from about his neck the dark blue + handkerchief, unbuttoned his coat, then a grimy shirt and displayed a wall + of deep brown chest. This fine expanse had no hair upon it, but was + illuminated with a superb picture of a ship in full sail against a setting + sun, all worked in the most handsome of blue tatoo. Jeremy gasped. He had + never dreamed that such things could be. He ventured to touch the ship + with his finger, and he could feel the Captain's manly heart thumping like + a muffled hammer beneath the skin. + </p> + <p> + “There's Queen Victoria on my right thigh and Nelson on my left, and the + battle of Trafalgar on the middle of my back. P'raps I'll show 'em you one + day. It wouldn't be decent exactly 'ere—too public. But one day you + come to my little place and I'll show 'em you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you really?” said Jeremy. “Didn't it hurt terribly?” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt!” said the Captain. “I should just think it did. I 'ad to put cotton + wool behind my teeth to prevent myself from screaming. But that's nothing. + What do you say to being tortured by the Caribbees natives every day after + breakfast for three 'ole months. A tooth out a day—” + </p> + <p> + “But your teeth are all there,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “False,” said the Captain. “Every one of 'em. And the things they'll do to + your toenails—it 'ud make your 'air creep on your 'ead to listen to + the things I could tell you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's awful!” said Jeremy. “And where is your ship now?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my ship!” the Captain replied, winking in the most mysterious + fashion; “it would be telling to say where that is. I can trust you, I + know; I'm a great judge o' character, I am, but not even with my own + mother, gone to glory now twenty years and as holy a soul as ever + breathed, I wouldn't trust even 'er with the secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it a secret?” asked Jeremy breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Treasure,” said the Captain, dropping his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Treasure, nothing less nor more. Between you and me there's enough gold + on that there ship to satisfy the Prime Minister 'imself, to say nothing + of the jewels—rubies, pearls, diamonds. My word, if you could see + them diamonds. I'm looking about me now for an extra man or two, and then + I'm off again—silent come, silent go's my motto—” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you don't happen to want a cabin-boy?” gasped Jeremy, his voice + choked in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, that's a funny thing,” said the Captain. “It's one of the very + things. But I'm afraid you're a bit young. Yet I don't know. We might—” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, suddenly lifted his finger to his lip, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Keep your eyes open. I'll be round again,” and had vanished. + </p> + <p> + Directly after Jeremy heard Miss Jones's unwelcome voice: “Why, Jeremy, we + couldn't find you anywhere. It's turning cold—tea-time—” With + a thump and a thud and a bang he fell back into the homely world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Jeremy was a perfectly normal little boy, and I defy anyone to have + discovered in him at this stage in his progress, those strange morbidities + and irregular instincts that were to be found in such unhappy human beings + as Dostoieffsky's young hero in “Podrostok,” or the unpleasant son and + heir of Jude and Sue. Nevertheless, eight years old is not too early for + stranger impulses and wilder dreams than most parents ever conceive of, + and the fortnight that followed Jeremy's meeting with the Sea-Captain was + as peculiar and fantastic a fortnight as he was ever, in all his later + life, to know. + </p> + <p> + For he was haunted—really haunted in the good old solid practical + meaning of the term—haunted with the haunting that pursued Sintram + and many another famous hero. And he was haunted not only by the + Sea-Captain, but by a thousand things that attended in that hero's + company. He was haunted by a picture—whence it had come to him he + did not know—of a dead-white high road, dropping over the hill into + shadow, the light fading around it, black, heavy hedges on every side of + it. From below the hill came the pounding of the sea, exactly as he had + heard it so many many times on the hill above Rafiel, and he knew, + although his eyes could not catch it, that in the valley round the head of + the road was the fishing village with the lights just coming in the + windows, and beyond the village the sloping shingly Cove. But he could see + only the dead-white road, and upon this his eyes were always fixed as + though he were expecting someone. And he could smell the sea-pinks and the + grass damp with evening dew, and the cold dust of the road, and the + sea-smell in the wind. And he waited, knowing that the time would come + when he would be told to descend the hill, pass through the village, and + step out, under the heavy grey clouds, upon the little shingly beach. He + was aware then that out at sea a dark, black ship was riding, slipping a + little with the tide, one light gleaming and swinging against the pale + glow of the dusky horizon. The church clock struck four below the hill; he + was still on the high road waiting, his eyes straining for figures... He + was prepared for some journey, because he had at his feet a bundle. And he + knew that he ought not to be there. He knew that something awful was about + to happen and that, when it had occurred, he would be committed always to + something or someone... A little cold breeze then would rise in the hedges + and against the silence that followed the chiming of the clock he could + hear first the bleating of a sheep, then a sudden pounding of the sea as + though the breakers responded to the sudden rising of the wind, then the + hoofs of a horse, clear and hard, upon the road... At that moment the + picture clouded and was dim. Had this been a dream? Was it simply a + confusion of summer visits to Rafiel, stories told him by Mary, pictures + in books (a fine illustrated edition of “Redgauntlet” had been a treasure + to him since he was a baby), the exciting figure of the Captain, and the + beginning of spring? And yet the vision was so vividly detailed that it + was precisely like a remembered event. He had always seen things in + pictures; punishment meant standing in the corner counting the ships on + the wallpaper; summer holidays meant the deep green meadows of Cow Farm, + or a purple pool under an afternoon sun; religion meant walking up the + great wide aisle of the Cathedral in creaking boots and clean + underclothes, and so on. It was nothing new for him to make a picture, and + to let that picture stand for a whole complex phase of life. But this? + What had it to do with the Sea-Captain, and why was it, as he knew in his + heart that it was, wicked and wrong and furtive? For this had begun as a + high adventurous romance. There had been nothing wrong in that first talk + in the Meads, when the Captain had shown him the tatooes. The wickedness + of it had developed partly with his growing longing to see the Captain + again, partly with the meeting that actually followed, and partly with the + sense that grew and grew as the days passed that the Captain was always + watching him. + </p> + <p> + The Captain, during these weeks, seemed to be everywhere. Never was there + an afternoon that Jeremy walked out with Miss Jones and his sisters that + he did not appear. It was not very difficult to snatch a conversation with + him. Because the beauty of the spring weather continued, the children went + every day for a walk in the Meads, and on at least three separate + occasions Jeremy and the Captain enjoyed quite long conversations + together. These were, none of them, so good as that first one had been. + The Captain was not so genial, nor so light-hearted; it seemed that he had + something on his mind. Sometimes he put his hand on Jeremy's shoulder, and + the heavy pressure of his great fingers made Jeremy tremble, partly with + terror, partly with pleasure. His face, also, was scarcely so agreeable as + it had seemed at first sight. His tremendous nose seemed to burn down upon + Jeremy like a malignant fire. His eyes were so small that sometimes they + disappeared under his fat cheeks altogether, or only gleamed like little + sharp points of light from under his heavy, shaggy eyebrows. Then, + although he tried to make his voice pleasant, Jeremy felt that that + complaisant friendliness was not his natural tone. Sometimes there would + be a sharp, barking note that made Jeremy jump and his cheek pale. The + Captain told him no more fascinating stories, and when Jeremy wanted to + know about the ship with the diamonds and rubies and the little sea + village where she lay hid and the Caribbees natives, and the chances of + becoming a cabin boy, and the further exploitation of the tatooes—all + these things the Captain brushed aside as though they no longer interested + him in the least. He, on the other hand, wanted now to know exactly where + Jeremy lived, what the house was like, where the back doors were, how the + windows opened, where Jeremy slept, and so on. Jeremy, pleased at this + interest in his daily life, told him as many things as he could, hoping to + pass on afterwards to more exciting topics; how, for instance, the kitchen + windows were fastened always last thing at night, but you could undo them + from the garden if you liked with your knife, and Jeremy knew this because + Uncle Samuel had done it once on a Sunday afternoon when the maids were + all out and he'd forgotten his door key. He would have told the Captain + all about the schoolroom and the toy village and the Jampot and the fun + they had had teasing Miss Jones had not, the Captain fiercely told him + that these things did not interest him, and that he had better just answer + the questions that were put to him. It was indeed strange to see how, with + every interview, the Captain grew fiercer and fiercer and sharper and + sharper. He made no allusions now to “'is little nipper,” said nothing + about that holy soul his mother, and never mentioned his liking for + Jeremy. There was evidently something on his mind, and if he had seemed + mysterious at their first meeting it was nothing to the secrecy that he + practised now. + </p> + <p> + And yet, in spite of all this, his hold over Jeremy grew and grew. That + dream of the bending white road was always with Jeremy. He could think of + nothing but the Captain, and while he was certainly afraid and would jump + at the slightest sound, he was also certainly excited beyond all earlier + experience. He longed, as he lay awake at night, to see the Captain. He + seemed to have always in front of his eyes the great wall of a chest with + the blue ship on it, and the bolster legs, and the gigantic hands. + Strangest of all was the sense of evil that came with the attraction. + </p> + <p> + He longed to be in the man's company as he longed to do something that he + had been always told not to do, and when he caught sight of him a sudden, + hot, choking hand was pressed upon his heart, and he was terrified, + delighted, frightened, ashamed, all in one. The Captain always alluded to + the things that he would tell him, would show him one day—“When you + come to my little place I'll teach yer a thing or two”—and Jeremy + would wonder for hours what this little place would be like and what the + Captain would teach him. Meanwhile, he saw him everywhere, even when he + was not there—behind lamp-posts, at street corners, behind the old + woman's umbrella in the market-place, peering round the statues in the + Cathedral, jerking up his head from behind chimney pots, looking through + the nursery windows just when dusk was coming on, in the passages, under + stairs, out in the dark garden—and always behind him that horrid + dream of the dead-white road and the shingly Cove... Yes, poor Jeremy was + truly haunted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + That Miss Jones suspected nothing of these meetings must be attributed + partly to that lady's habit of wrapping herself in her own thoughts on her + walks abroad, and partly to her natural short-sightedness. Once Mary said + that she had noticed “a horrid man with a red face” staring at them; but + Miss Jones, although she was not a vain woman, thought it nevertheless + quite natural that men should stare, and fancied more frequently that they + did so than was strictly the truth. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, meanwhile, was occupied now with the thought as to what he would + do did the Captain really want him to go away with him. He discussed it + with himself, but he did not doubt what he would do; he would go. And he + would go, he knew, with fear and dread, and with a longing to stay, and be + warm in the schoolroom, and have jam for tea, and half an hour before + bedtime downstairs, and Yorkshire pudding on Sundays. But the Captain + could make him do anything... Yes, the Captain could make him do + anything... + </p> + <p> + His afternoon walks now were prolonged agonies. He would turn his head at + every moment, would stare into dark corners, would start at the sound of + steps. His sleep now was broken with horrid dreams, and he would jump up + and cry out; and one night he actually dreamt of his dead-white road and + the sounds that came up from below the hill, the bell and the sea, and the + distant rattle of the little carts. + </p> + <p> + Then the Captain drew near to the very house itself. He haunted Orange + Street, could be seen lounging against a lamp-post opposite the High + School, looked once into the very garden of the Coles, Jeremy watching him + with beating heart from the schoolroom window. It was incredible to Jeremy + that no one else of the house perceived him; but no one ever mentioned + him, and this made it appear all the more a dream, as though the Captain + were invisible to everyone save himself. He began to hate him even more + than he feared him, and yet with that hatred the pleasure and excitement + remained. I remember how, years ago in Polchester, when I could not have + been more than six years old, I myself was haunted with exactly that same + mixture of pleasure and horror by the figure of a hunch-backed pedlar who + used to come to our town. Many years after I heard that he had been hung + for the murder of some wretched woman who had accompanied him on some of + his journeys. I was not surprised; but when I heard the story I felt then + again the old thrill of mingled pleasure and fear. + </p> + <p> + One windy afternoon, near dusk, when they were returning from their walk, + Jeremy suddenly heard the voice in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “I may be coming to visit yer one o' these nights. Keep yer eyes open and + yer tongue quiet if I do.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy saw the figures of Miss Jones and his sisters pass round the corner + of the road. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + The Captain's figure seemed to swell gigantic against the white light of + the fading sky. The wind whistled about their ears. + </p> + <p> + “Just to visit yer, that's all. 'Cause I've taken a fancy to yer.” The + Captain chuckled and had vanished... + </p> + <p> + Jeremy flung one glance at the grey desolate road behind him, then ran for + his life to join the others. + </p> + <p> + What, after that, did he expect? He did not know. Only the Captain was + drawing closer, and closer, and closer. + </p> + <p> + He could feel now always his hot breath upon his ear. Two days after the + whispered dialogue in the road, that first promise of spring broke down + into a tempest of wind and rain. The Coles' house in Orange Street, + although it looked, with its stout, white stone, strong enough, was old + and shaky. Now, in the storm, it shook and wheezed and rattled in every + one of its joints. Jeremy, at ordinary times, loved the sound of the wind + about the house, when he himself was safe and warm and cosy; but this was + now another affair. Lying in his bed he could hear the screams down the + chimney, then the tug at his window-pane, the rattling clutch upon the + wood, then the sweep under the bed and the rush up the wallpaper, until at + last, from behind some badly defended spot where the paper was thin, there + would come a wailing, whistling screech as though someone were being + murdered in the next room. On other days Jeremy, when he heard this + screech, shivered with a cosy, creeping thrill; but now he put his head + under the bedclothes, shut his eyes very tight, and tried not to see the + Captain with his ugly nose and tiny gimlet eyes. + </p> + <p> + He would be half asleep. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said the Captain from the window, “the boat is waiting! You + promised, you know. Come just as you are—no time to dress,” and poor + Jeremy would feel the great, heavy hand upon his shoulder and wake + shivering and shaking from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + On the third day following his last interview with the Captain he went to + bed a little reassured and comforted. Perhaps the Captain had gone away. + For three days he had seen and heard nothing of him at all. + </p> + <p> + That was a night of rain—rain that slashed and whipped the house as + though it would batter it to the ground. The rain would come with a wild + fury upon the panes, trembling with its excited anger, would crash against + the glass, then fall back and hang waiting for a further attack; next the + results of the first attack would slip and slide like the crawling of a + thousand snakes, then fall and drop slowly and heavily as though every + drop were foretelling some awful peril. Jeremy lay and listened; but he + resolved that to-night he would not be frightened, would not think of the + Captain. + </p> + <p> + He said the Lord's Prayer five times, then counted sheep jumping over the + gate, a safe solution for sleepless hours. He saw the sheep—first + one a very fat one, then one a very thin one; but the gate stood at the + bottom of a little hill, so that it was very difficult for the poor + creatures, who jumped and slipped back on the incline. Then a lot of sheep + insisted on jumping together, and he could hardly count them—forty-five, + forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight.... He was asleep. + </p> + <p> + After a long, long time of soundlessness, of lying upon a sea that was + like a bed of down, and looking up, happily into clear blue light, he was + once more conscious of the rain. Yes, there it was with its sweeping rush, + its smash upon the pane, its withdrawal, its trickling patter and heavy + drops as though it were striking time. Yes, that was the rain and that—What + was that? + </p> + <p> + He was wide awake, lying back against his pillow, but his eyes staring in + front of them till they burnt. The house was absolutely dark, absolutely + silent, but between the attacks of the rain there was a wound, something + that had not to do with the house nor with the weather. He strained with + his ears, sitting up in bed, his hands clutching the bed clothes. He heard + it quite clearly now. Someone was moving in the nursery. + </p> + <p> + With that the whole of his brain was awake and he knew quite clearly, + beyond a shadow of any doubt, what had happened; the Captain had come to + fetch him. With that knowledge an icy despair gripped him. He did not want + to go. Oh, he did not want to go! He was trembling from head to foot so + that the bed shook beneath him, his breath came in little hot gasping + pants, and his eyes were wide with terror. He was helpless. The Captain + would only say “Come,” and go he must, leave his warm house and his + parents whom he loved and Mary and Helen and Hamlet, yes, and even Miss + Jones. He would be dragged down the long white road, through the lighted + village, out on to the shiny beach, in a boat out to the dark ship—and + then he would be alone with the Captain, alone in the dark ship, with the + Captain's heavy hand upon his shoulder, his mouth smiling, his great legs + drawing him in as a spider draws a fly into its web, and everyone asleep, + only the stars and the dark water. He tried to say the Lord's Prayer + again, but the words would not come. The sweat began to trickle down his + nose... + </p> + <p> + Then he heard in the next room some movement against a piece of furniture + and a voice muttering. That decided him: better to go and face it than to + wait there, so as though he were moving in his sleep, he got out of bed, + crossed the floor and entered the schoolroom. + </p> + <p> + The first sound that he heard was the ticking of the old nursery clock, a + strange familiar voice in this awful world, then suddenly, although the + room was in black darkness, he himself was staring into blazing light. + </p> + <p> + He started back and uttered a little cry, but even as he did so that + well-remembered hand was upon his shoulder and the well-known voice in his + ear: + </p> + <p> + “Move an inch, utter a sound, and I blow yer brains out, yer—” the + voice, very low, faded into, the dark. He was staring into a lantern, and + above the lantern was the dark body of the Captain. Then as he looked up + he was indeed near his last moment, for had he not been a brave boy, old + for his years, and determined, he would have cried out with a scream that + would have raised the house. + </p> + <p> + The Captain had no face... The Captain had no face... Only out of a deep + darkness those little eyes glittered like candle-points. Jeremy uttered no + sound. Then catching the Captain's coat because he trembled so, he said: + “I'm coming at once—but don't wake Mary and Helen. They'd be + frightened. May I get a coat, because it raining?” + </p> + <p> + “Coming!” whispered the Captain, his voice coming from that space in the + air where were his eyes. “You move one inch from 'ere or utter one sound + and I do yer in, yer—I'm watchin' yer, mind!” + </p> + <p> + The lantern light suddenly vanished. The room was black. There was no + sound but the ticking of the clock, and now the rain, which had seemed to + stop during this terrible dialogue, beat with friendly comfort once more + upon the pane. Jeremy stood there, his body held together as though in an + iron case, scarcely breathing. There was no more sound at all. Quite + clearly now Mary's snores could be heard coming from her room. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy had only one thought—only one thought in all the world. The + Captain did not want him. The Captain had gone and not taken him with him. + He was safe; he was freed; the terror was over and he was at liberty. + </p> + <p> + At last he moved back to his room. He got into bed again. He was terribly + cold, and little spasms of shivers seized him, but he did not care. The + Captain was gone, and he had not taken him with him... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + He was not aware whether he slept or no, but suddenly sunlight was in the + room, the bath-water was running, the canary was singing and Hamlet was + scratching upon his door. He jumped out of bed and let the dog in. Then he + heard Rose's voice from the next room: + </p> + <p> + “... and 'e's taken everything, 'e 'as. All the silver candlesticks and + the plate what was give to master by the Temp'rance Society, and Master + Jeremy's mug what he 'ad at 'is christening and all the knives and forks—'e + 'as—and the gold clock out o' the drorin'-room, and the mess! Why, I + says to Cook 'e couldn't 'ave made more mess, I say, not if 'e'd come to + do nothin' else. Grease everywhere, you never see nothin' like it, and all + the drawers open and the papers scattered about. Thank 'Eaven 'e never + found Cook's earrings. Real gold they was, ever so many carat and give to + Cook ever so many years ago by 'er John. Poor woman! She'd 'ave been in a + terrible takin' if she'd lost 'em... And so quiet too—not a sound + and everyone sleepin' all round 'im. Wonderful 'ow they does it! I thank + the Lord I didn't 'ear 'im; I'd 'ave died of fright-shouldn't like! Why, + Cook says she knew a 'ouse once...” + </p> + <p> + But Jeremy did not listen, he did not care. As Hamlet sprang about him and + licked his hand he thought of one thing alone. + </p> + <p> + The Captain was gone! The Captain was gone! He was free! The Captain had + not taken him, and he was free at last! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. FAMILY PRIDE + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + I am afraid that too great a part of this book is about old maids, but it + is hard for anyone who knows only the thriving bustling world of today to + realise how largely we children were hemmed in and surrounded by a proper + phalanx of elderly single ladies and clergymen. I don't believe that we + were any the worse for that, and to such heroines as Miss Jane Maple, Miss + Mary Trefusis and old Miss Jessamin Trenchard, I here publicly acknowledge + deep and lasting debt-but it did make our life a little monotonous, a + little unadventurous, a little circumscribed -and because T am determined + to give the whole truth and nothing but the truth about the year of + Jeremy's life that I am describing, this book will also, I am afraid, be a + little circumscribed, a little unadventurous. + </p> + <p> + The elderly lady who most thoroughly circumscribed Jeremy was, of course—putting + Miss Jones, who was a governess and therefore did not count, aside—Aunt + Amy. + </p> + <p> + Now Aunt Amy was probably the most conceited woman in Polchester. There is + of course ordinary human conceit, of which every living being has his or + her share. I am not speaking of that; Miss Amy Trefusis might be said to + be fanatically conceited. + </p> + <p> + Although she was now a really plain elderly woman it is possible that when + she was a little girl she was pretty. In any case, it is certain that she + was spoiled when she was a little girl, and because she was delicate and + selfish she received a good deal more attention and obedience from weak + and vacillating elders than she deserved. + </p> + <p> + After her growing up she had a year or two of moderate looks and she + received, during this period, several proposals; these she refused because + they were not good enough and something better must be coming very + shortly, but what really came very shortly was middle-age, and it came of + course entirely unperceived by the lady. She dressed and behaved as though + she were still twenty, although her brother Samuel tried to laugh her out + of such absurdities. But no sister ever pays attention to a brother on + such matters, and Aunt Amy wore coloured ribbons and went to balls and + made eyes behind her fan for season after season. Then as time passed she + was compelled by her mirror to realise that she was not quite so young as + she had once been, so she hurriedly invented a thrilling past history for + herself, alluding to affair after affair that had come to nothing only + because she herself had ruthlessly slain them, and dressing herself more + reasonably, but with little signs and hints, in the shape of chains and + coloured bows and rings, that she could still be young if she so pleased, + and that she was open to offers, although she could not promise them much + encouragement. She liked the society of Canons, and was to be seen a great + deal with old Canon Borlase, who was as great a flirt as he was an + egotist, so that it did not matter to him in the least with whom he + flirted, and sat at the feet of old Canon Morpheu, who was so crazy about + the discoveries that he had made in the life of Ezekiel that it was quite + immaterial to him to whom he explained them. + </p> + <p> + She descended from these clerical flights into the bosom of family life + with some natural discontent. Her brother Samuel she had always disliked + because he laughed at her; her sister she did not care for because she was + very innocently, poor lady, flaunting her superior married state; and her + brother-in-law she did not like because he always behaved as though she + were one of a vast public of elderly ladies who were useful for helping in + clerical displays, but were otherwise non-existent. Then she hated + children, so that she really often wondered why she continued to live with + her brother-in-law, but it was cheap, comfortable and safe, and although + she assured herself and everyone else that there were countless homes + wildly eager to receive her, it was perhaps just as well not to put their + eagerness too abruptly to the test. + </p> + <p> + There had been war between her and Jeremy since Jeremy's birth, but it had + been war of a rather mild and inoffensive character, consisting largely in + Jeremy on his side putting out his tongue at her when she could not see + him, and she on her side sending him to wash his ears when they really did + not require to be washed. She had felt always in Jeremy an obstinate + dislike of her, and as he had seemed to her neither a very clever nor + intelligent child she had consoled herself very easily with the thought + that he did not like her simply because he was stupid. So it had been + until this year, and then suddenly they had been flung into sharper + opposition. It was hard to say what had brought this about, but it was + perhaps that Jeremy had sprung suddenly from the unconscious indifference + of a young child into the active participation of a growing boy. Whatever + the truth might have been, the coming of Hamlet had drawn their attitudes + into positive conflict. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Amy had felt from the first that Hamlet laughed at her. Had you asked + her to state, as a part of her general experience, that she really + believed that dogs could laugh at human beings she would indignantly have + repudiated any idea so fantastic, nevertheless, unanalysed and + unconfronted, that was her conviction. The dog laughed at her, he insulted + her by walking into her bedroom with his muddy feet and then pretending + that he hadn't known that it was her bedroom, regarding her through his + hair with an ironical and malicious glance, barking suddenly when she made + some statement as though he enjoyed immensely an excellent joke, but, + above all, despising her, she felt, so that the wall of illusion that she + had built around herself had been pulled down by at least one creature, + more human, she knew, in spite of herself, than many human beings. + Therefore, she hated Hamlet, and scarcely a day passed that she did not + try to have him flung from the house, or at least kept in the kitchen + offices. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet had, however, won the hearts of the family; it was, indeed, Aunt + Amy alone to whom he had not thought it worth while to pay court. To her + alone he would not come when she called, by her alone he would not be + cajoled, even though she offered him sugary tea, his deadliest temptation. + No, he sat and looked at her through his hair, his fiery eye glinting, his + peaked beard ironically humorous, his leg stuck out from his body, a + pointing signal of derision. + </p> + <p> + She resolved to wait for an opportunity when she might conquer Hamlet and + Jeremy together, but her power in the house was slight, so long as Mr. and + Mrs. Cole were there. “If I only had the children to myself,” she would + say, “I would improve their manners in many ways. Poor Alice—!” Then + suddenly she did have them. At the beginning of May Mr. Cole was summoned + to take a mission to the seamen of Drymouth, and Mrs. Cole, who had + relations in Drymouth, accompanied him. They would be absent from + Pelchester a whole week. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, won't Aunt Amy be a nuisance,” said Jeremy, realising the situation. + Then turning to Mary he added: “We'll pretend to do what she tells us and + not do it really. That's much the easiest.” + </p> + <p> + A week is a short time, especially at the beginning of a shining and + burning May, but Aunt Amy did her best not only with the children but with + the servants, and even old Jordan, the gardener, who had been with the + Cole family for twenty years. During that short week the cook, the + parlourmaid, Rose, the housemaid, and the bootboy all gave notice, and + Mrs. Cole was only able to keep them (on her return) by raising the wages + of all of them. Jordan, who was an old man with a long white beard, said + to her when she advised him to plant pinks where he had planted tulips and + tulips where he had planted pinks, and further inquired why the + cauliflower that he sent in was so poor and the cabbages so small: “Leave + things alone, Miss, Nature's wiser than we be, not but what you mayn't + mean well, but fussin's never done any good where Nature's concerned, nor + never will”; and when she said that he was very rude to her, he shook his + head and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Maybe yes, and maybe no. What's rude to one ain't rude to another”—out + of which answer she could make nothing at all. + </p> + <p> + In the schoolroom she sustained complete defeat. At the very outset she + was baffled by Miss Jones. She had always despised Miss Jones as a poor + unfortunate female who was forced to teach children in her old age because + she must earn her living—a stupid, sentimental, cowed, old woman at + whom the children laughed. She found now that the children instead of + laughing at her laughed with her, formed a phalanx of protection around + her and refused to be disobedient. Miss Jones herself was discovered to + have a dry, rather caustic, sense of humour that Aunt Amy felt to be + impertinence, but could not penetrate. + </p> + <p> + “And is that really how you teach them history, Miss Jones? Not quite the + simplest way, surely... I remember an excellent governess whom we once had—” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Miss Jones, gently, “you would give them a history lesson + yourself, Miss Trefusis. I would be so glad to pick up any little hints—” + </p> + <p> + “I have, of course, no time,” said Aunt Amy hurriedly, “but, speaking + generally, I am afraid I can't approve altogether of your system.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't very good, I'm afraid,” said Miss Jones weakly. “The children + would be glad, I know, to have a few hints from you if you could spare a + moment—” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, who was listening, giggled, tried to turn the giggle into a sneeze + and choked. + </p> + <p> + “Jeremy!” said Aunt Amy severely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do look, Aunt Amy!” cried Mary, always Jeremy's faithful ally, “all + your hairpins are dropping out!” + </p> + <p> + She devoted herself then to Jeremy and worried him in every possible way, + and after two days of this he hated her with a deep and bitter hatred, + very different from that earlier teasing of Miss Jones. That had sprung + from a sudden delicious discovery of power, and had been directed against + no one. This was a real personal hatred that children of a less solid and + tenacious temperament than Jeremy would have been incapable of feeling. + </p> + <p> + He did not laugh at her, he did not tease her, he no longer put out his + tongue at her. He was older than that now—he was simply reserved and + silent, watching her with his large eyes, his square body set, and + resolved as though he knew that his moment would come. + </p> + <p> + Her experience with him was baffling. She punished him, petted him, she + ignored him, she stormed at him; it seemed that she would do anything + could she only win from him an acknowledgment of her power, her + capability. But she could not. He only said: “Yes, Aunt Amy.” “No, Aunt + Amy.” + </p> + <p> + She burst out: “You're a sullen, wicked little boy, Jeremy. Do you know + what happens to little boys who sulk?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Aunt Amy.” + </p> + <p> + “They grow into cross, bad-tempered men whom nobody likes and nobody + trusts. Do you want to be like that when you're a man?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care.” + </p> + <p> + “You know what happened to 'Don't Care.' I shall have to punish you if + you're rude to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I done that's rude?” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't speak to me like that. Is that the way you speak to your + mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Aunt Amy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if you don't speak to your mother like that, you mustn't + speak to me like that, either.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Aunt Amy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then...” + </p> + <p> + This hatred was quite new to him. He had once, years ago, hated a + black-faced doll that had been given to him. He had not known why he hated + it, but there it had been. He had thrown it out of the window, and the + gardener had found it and brought it into the house again, battered and + bruised, but still alive, with its horrid red smile, and this had + terrified him... He had begun to burn it, and the nurse had caught him and + slapped him. He had begun to cut it with scissors, and when the sawdust + flowed he was more terrified than ever. But that doll was quite different + from Aunt Amy. He was not terrified of her at all. He hated her. Hated the + fringe of her black hair, the heavy eyelashes, the thin down on her upper + lip, the way that the gold cross fell up and down on her breast, her thin, + blue-veined hands, her black shoes. She was his first enemy, and he + waited, as an ambush hides and watches, for his opportunity... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + One of our nicest old maids, Miss Maddison, gave every year what she + called her “early summer party.” This was different from all our other + parties, because it occurred neither in the summer nor in the winter, but + always during those wonderful days when the spring first began to fade + into the high bright colours, the dry warmth, the deep green shadows of + the heat of the year. It was early in May that Miss Maddison had her + party, and we played games on her little sloping green lawn, and peered + over her pink-brick wall down on to the brown roofs of the houses below + the Close, and had a tremendous tea of every kind of cake and every kind + of jam in her wainscoted dining-room that looked out through its tall open + windows on to the garden. Those old houses that run in a half-moon round + the Close, and face the green sward and the great western door of the + Cathedral, are the very heart of Polchester. Walking down the cobbled + street, one may still to-day look through the open door, down the dusky + line of the little hall, out into the swimming colour of the garden + beyond. In these little gardens, what did not grow? Hollyhocks, pinks, + tulips, nasturtiums, pansies, lilies of the valley, roses, honeysuckle, + sweet-williams, stocks—I remember them all at their different + seasons in that muddled, absurd profusion. I can smell them now, can see + them in their fluttering colours, the great grey wall of the Cathedral, + with its high carved door and watching saints behind me, the sun beating + on to the cobbles, the muffled beat of the summer day, the sleepy noises + of the town, the pigeons cutting the thin, papery blue into arcs and + curves and circles, the little lattice-windowed houses, with crooked + chimneys and shining doors, smiling down upon me. I can smell, too, that + especial smell that belonged to those summer hours, a smell of dried + blotting-paper, of corn and poppies from the fields, of cobble-stones and + new-baked bread and lemonade; and behind the warmth and colour the cool + note of the Cathedral bell echoed through the town, down the High Street, + over the meads, across the river, out into the heart of the dark woods and + the long spaces of the summer fields. I can see myself, too, toiling up + the High Street, my cap on the back of my head, little beads of + perspiration on my forehead, and my eyes always gazing into the air, so + that I stumbled over the cobbles and knocked against doorsteps. All these + things had to do with Miss Maddison's parly, and it was always her party + that marked the beginning of them for us; she waited for the fine weather, + and so soon as it came the invitations were sent out, the flower-beds were + trimmed, the little green wooden seats under the mulberry tree were + cleaned, and Poupee, the black poodle, was clipped. + </p> + <p> + It happened this year that Miss Maddison gave her party during the very + week that Mr. and Mrs. Cole went to Drymouth. She sent out her invitations + only three days before the great event, because the summer had come with + so fine a rush. “Master Jeremy and the Misses Cole... Would they give Miss + Maddison the pleasure...?” Yes, of course they would. Aunt Amy would take + them. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the great day Jeremy poured the contents of his + watering-can upon Aunt Amy's head. It was a most unfortunate accident, + arranged obviously by a malignant fate. Jeremy had been presented with a + pot of pinks, and these, every morning, he most faithfully watered. He had + a bright-red watering-can, bought with his own money, and, because it held + more water than the pinks needed, he was in the daily habit of emptying + the remnant in a glittering shower out of the pantry window on to the bed + nearest the garden wall. Upon this morning someone called him; he turned + his head; the water still flowed, and Aunt Amy, hatless and defenceless, + received it as it tumbled with that sudden rush which always seizes a + watering-can at its last gasp. Jeremy was banished into his bedroom, where + he employed the sunny morning in drawing pictures of Aunt Amy as a witch + upon the wallpaper. For doing this he was caned by Aunt Amy herself with a + ruler, and at the end of the operation he laughed and said she hadn't hurt + him at all. In return for this impertinence he was robbed, at luncheon, of + his pudding—which was, of course, on that very day, marmalade + pudding—and then, Mary being discovered putting some of hers into a + piece of paper, to be delivered to him in due course, they were both stood + in different corners of the room “until you say you're sorry.” + </p> + <p> + When the jingle arrived at three o'clock they had still not made this + acknowledgment, and Jeremy said he never would, “not if he lived till he + was ninety-nine.” At quarter past three Jeremy might have been seen + sitting up very straight in the jingle, his face crimson from washing and + temper. He was wearing his new sailor suit, which tickled him and was hot + and sticky; he sat there devoting the whole of his energies to the + business of hating Aunt Amy. + </p> + <p> + As I have said, he had never hated anyone before, and he was surprised at + the glow of virtuous triumph that this new emotion spread over his body. + He positively loved to hate Aunt Amy, and as Parkes, the pony, slowly + toiled up the hill to the Cathedral, he sat stiff and proud with an almost + humorous anger. Then, as they turned over the hot shining cobbles into the + Close and saw the green trees swimming in the sun, he turned his mind to + the party. What games would they play? Who would be there? What would + there be for tea? He felt creeping over him the stiff shyness that always + comes when one is approaching a party, and he wished that the first + handshaking and the first plunge into the stares of the critical guests + might be over. But he did not really care. His hatred of Aunt Amy braced + him up; when one was capable of so fine and manly an emotion as this + hatred, one need not bother about fellow-guests. Then the jingle stopped + outside a house immediately opposite the great west-end door of the + Cathedral; in the little hall Miss Maddison was standing, and from the + glittering garden behind her the sun struck through the house into the + shadowed street. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy's public manners were, when he pleased, quite beautiful—“the + true, old-fashioned courtesy,” gushing friends of the Cole family used to + say. He was preparing to be very polite now, when suddenly the voice of + the Dean's Ernest ordering people about in the garden struck upon his ear. + He had not seen the Dean's Ernest for nearly three months, for the very + good reason that that gentleman had been experiencing his first term at + his private school. Last year young Ernest and Jeremy had been, on the + whole, friendly, although Ernest, who was nine, and strong for his age, + had always patronised. And now? Jeremy longed to inform his friend that he + also shortly would proceed to school, that in another six months' time + there would be practically no difference between them. Nevertheless, at + the present moment there was a difference... Ernest had a whole term to + his credit. + </p> + <p> + New arrivals gently insinuated the Cole family into the garden. Helen, + proud and cold, Mary, blinking and nervous, stood pressed close together + whilst other little girls stared and giggled, moved forward and then + backward again, until suddenly Canon Lasker's Emily, who was fifteen and + had such long legs that she was known as “the Giraffe,” came up and said: + “Isn't it hot! Do you play croquet? Please-do! I'll have—the—blue + ball...” And the Coles were initiated. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Aunt Amy had said: “Now, Jeremy, dear, run about and make + friends.” Which so deeply infuriated him that he choked. Oh! supposing the + Dean's Ernest had heard her!... + </p> + <p> + And he had! A mocking voice behind him said: “Now, Jeremy, dear—” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy turned round and beheld the Dean's Ernest mockingly waiting his + retort. And he could not retort. No words would come, and he could only + stand there, his cheeks flushed, aware that Ernest had grown and grown + during those three months, that he wore a straw hat with a black-and-red + ribbon upon it, that round his long ugly neck was a stiff white collar, + and across his waistcoat a thick silver watch-chain. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” said the new Ernest scornfully. + </p> + <p> + A long pause. + </p> + <p> + Then Ernest, turning on his heel, said to someone behind him: “Let's get + away from all these girls!” The tears burnt in Jeremy's eyes, hot and + salt. He clenched his fists and gazed upon a garden that swam in a mist of + tears and sunlight. He felt a sudden strange impulse of family affection. + He would like to have gathered behind him his father and mother, Mary, + Helen, Hamlet, Uncle Samuel—yes, and even Aunt Amy, and to have + advanced not only upon Ernest, but upon the whole Dean's family. It would + have given him great pleasure to have set his teeth into the fat legs of + the Dean himself; he would gladly have torn the hat from the head of Mrs. + Dean... Upon Ernest there was no torture he would not employ. + </p> + <p> + He would get even; he resolved that before he left that house he would + have his revenge. + </p> + <p> + Kind Miss Maddison, tripping along and seeing him as a pathetic little boy + in a sailor suit without guile or malice, swept him into an “I spy” party + composed for the most part of small girls who fell down and cried and said + they would go home. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, hiding behind a tree, watched the thin back of Ernest as it lifted + itself autocratically above two small boys who looked up to him with + saucer-eyes. Ernest was obviously talking about his school. Jeremy, lost + in the contemplation of his vengeance, forgot his game, and was taken + prisoner with the greatest of ease. He did not care. The afternoon was + spoilt for him. He was not even hungry. Why could he not go to school + to-morrow, and then challenge Ernest to combat? But he might challenge + Ernest without going to school... He had never fought a real fight, but + the sight of his enemy's thin, peaky body was encouraging. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jeremy, dear,” said Miss Maddison, “it's your turn to hide...” + </p> + <p> + Soon they all went in to tea. Everyone was thoroughly at home by this + time, and screamed and shouted quite in the most natural manner in the + world. The long table stretched down the whole room, almost from wall to + wall; the sunlight played in pools and splashes upon the carpet and the + flowers and the pictures. There was every sort of thing to eat—thin + bread-and-butter rolled up into little curly sandwiches, little cakes and + big cakes, seed cakes and sugar cakes, and, of course, saffron buns, jam + in little shining dishes, and hot buttered toast so buttery that, it + dripped on to your fingers. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy sat next to Mary, and behind him hovered Aunt Amy. Only half an + hour ago how this would have angered him! To have her interfering with + him, saying: “Not two at a time, Jeremy,” or “Pass the little girl the + sugar, Jeremy—remember your manners.” or “Not so big a piece, + Jeremy.” But now—he did not know... She was one of the family, and + he felt as though the Dean's Ernest had scorned her as well as himself. + Also Mary. He felt kind to Mary, and when she whispered “Are you enjoying + it, Jeremy?” he answered “Yes; are you?” Not because he was really + enjoying it, but because he knew that she wanted him to say that. + </p> + <p> + He could see Ernest from where he sat, and he knew that Ernest was + laughing at him. He remembered that he had given Ernest three splendid + marbles, just before his departure to school, as a keepsake. How he wished + that he had kept them! He would never give Ernest anything again except + blows. Mary might be tiresome sometimes, but she was his sister, and he + greatly preferred her as a girl to Ernest's sisters. He could see them + now, greedy, ugly things... + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jeremy, wipe your mouth,” said Aunt Amy. + </p> + <p> + He obeyed at once. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Tea over, they all trooped out into the garden again. The evening light + now painted upon the little green lawn strange trembling shadows of purple + and grey; the old red garden wall seemed to have crept forwards, as though + it would protect the house and the garden from the night; and a sky of the + faintest blue seemed, with gentle approval, to bless the quiet town fading + into dusk beneath it. Over the centre of the lawn the sun was still + shining, and there it was warm and light. But from every side the shadows + stealthily crept forward. A group of children played against the golden + colour, their white dresses patterns that formed figures and broke and + formed again. The Cathedral bell was ringing for evensong, and its notes + stole about the garden, and in and out amongst the children, as though + some guardian spirit watching over their safety counted their numbers. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, feeling rather neglected and miserable, stood in the shadow near + the oak on the farther side of the lawn. He did not want to play with + those little girls, and yet he was hurt because he had not been asked. The + party had been a most miserable failure, and a year ago it would have been + such a success. He did not know that he was standing now, in the middle of + his eighth year, at the parting of the ways; that only yesterday he had + been a baby, and that he would never be a baby again. He did not feel his + independence—he felt only inclined to tears and a longing, that he + would never, never confess, even to himself, that someone should come and + comfort him! Nevertheless, even at this very moment, although he did not + know it, he, a free, independent man, was facing the world for the first + time on his own legs. His mother might have realised it had she been there—but + she was not. Mary, however, was there, and in the very middle of her game, + searching for him, as she was always doing, she found him desolate under + the shadow of the oak. She slipped away, and, coming up to him with the + shyness and fear that she always had when she approached him, because she + loved him so much and he could so easily hurt her, said: + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you coming to play, Jeremy?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” he answered gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't any fun without you.” She paused, and added: “Would you mind if + I stayed here too?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather you played,” he said; and yet he was comforted by her, + determined, as he was, that she should never know it! + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather stay,” she said, and then gazed, with that melancholy stare + through her large spectacles that always irritated Jeremy, out across the + garden. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right,” he said again; “only my stocking tickles, and I can't get + at it—it's the back of my leg. I say, Mary, don't you hate the + Dean's Ernest?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” she answered fervently, although she had not thought about + him at all—enough for her that Jeremy should hate him! Then she + gasped: “Here he comes—” + </p> + <p> + He was walking towards them with a swagger of his long yellow neck and his + thin leggy body that Jeremy found especially offensive. Jeremy “bristled,” + and Mary was conscious of that bristling. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” said Ernest. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “What rot these silly games are!” said Ernest. “Why can't they have + something decent, like cricket?” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy had never played cricket, so he said nothing. “At our school,” said + Ernest, “we're very good at cricket. We win all our matches always—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care about your school,” said Jeremy, breathing through his nose. + </p> + <p> + The Dean's Ernest was obviously surprised by this; he had not expected it. + His pale neck began to flush. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young Cole,” he said, “none of your cheek.” + </p> + <p> + This was a new dialect to Jeremy, who had no friends who went to school. + All he said, however, breathing more fiercely than before, was: “I don't + care—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't you?” said Ernest. “Now, look here—” Then he paused, + apparently uncertain, for a moment, of his courage. The sight of Mary's + timorous anxiety, however, reassured him, and he continued: “It's all + right for you, this sort of thing. You ought to be in the nursery with + your old podge-faced nurse. Kids like you oughtn't to be allowed out of + their prams.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” said Jeremy again, seeing in front of him the whole family + of the Reverend Dean. “Your school isn't much anyway, I expect, and I'm + going to school in September, and I'll wear just the same things as you do + and—” + </p> + <p> + He wanted to comment upon the plain features of Ernest's sisters, but his + gentlemanly courtesy restrained him. He paused for breath, and Ernest + seized his advantage. + </p> + <p> + “You have to have an old aunt to look after you anyway—an ugly old + aunt. I wouldn't have an old aunt always hanging over me—'Now, + Jeremy dear—' 'Blow your nose, Jeremy dear—' 'Wipe your feet, + Jeremy dear.' Look at the things she wears and the way she walks. If I did + have to have an aunt always I'd have a decent one, not an old clothes + bag.” + </p> + <p> + What happened to Jeremy at the moment? Did he recollect that only a few + hours before he had been hating Aunt Amy with a fine frenzy of hatred? For + nearly a week he had been chafing under her restraint, combating her + commands, defying her orders. He had been seeing her as everything that + the Dean's Ernest had but now been calling her. Now he only saw her as + someone to be defended, someone who was his, someone even who depended on + him for support. He would have challenged a whole world of Deans in her + defence. + </p> + <p> + He said something, but no one could hear his words; then he sprang upon + the startled Ernest. + </p> + <p> + It was not a very distinguished combat; it was Jeremy's first battle, and + he knew at that time nothing of the science of fighting. The Dean's + Ernest, in spite of his term at school, also knew nothing—and the + Dean's Ernest was a coward... + </p> + <p> + It lasted but a short while, for Mary, after the first pause of horrified + amazement (aware only that Ernest was twice as big as her Jeremy), ran to + appeal to authority. Jeremy himself was aware neither of time nor + prudence. He realised immediately that Ernest was a coward, and this + realisation filled him with joy and happiness. He had seized Ernest by his + long yellow neck, and, with his other hand, he struck at eyes and cheeks + and nose. He did not secure much purchase for his blows because their + bodies were very close against one another, but he felt the soft flesh + yield and suddenly something wet against his hand which must, he knew, be + blood. And all the time he was thinking to himself: “I'll teach him to say + things about Aunt Amy! Aunt Amy's mine! I'll teach him! He shan't touch + Aunt Amy! He shan't touch Aunt Amy!...” + </p> + <p> + Ernest meanwhile kicked and kicked hard; he also tried to bite Jeremy's + hand and also to pull his hair. But his own terror handicapped him; every + inch of his body was alarmed, and that alarm prevented the freedom of his + limbs. Then when he felt the blood from his nose trickle on to his cheek + his resistance was at an end; panic flooded over him like water. He broke + away and flung himself howling on to the ground, kicking his legs and + screaming: + </p> + <p> + “It isn't fair! He's bitten me! Take him away! Take him away!” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy himself was no beautiful sight. His hair was wild, his white navy + collar crumpled and soiled, the buttons of his tunic torn, his stocking + down, and his legs already displaying purple bruises. But he did not care; + he was well now; he was no longer unhappy. + </p> + <p> + He had beaten Ernest and he was a man; he had risen victorious from his + first fight, and Authority might storm as it pleased. Authority soon + arrived, and there were, of course, many cries and exclamations. Ernest + was led away still howling; Jeremy, stubborn, obstinate, and silent, was + also led away.... A disgraceful incident. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Amy, of course, was disgusted. Couldn't leave the boy alone one + minute but he must misbehave himself, upset the party, be the little + ruffian that he always was. She had always said that his mother spoiled + him, and here were the fruits of that foolishness. How could she ever say + enough to Miss Maddison? Her delightful party completely ruined!... + Shocking!... Shocking!... Too terrible!. .. And Ernest, such a quiet, + well-behaved little boy as a rule. It must have been Jeremy who... + </p> + <p> + While they were waiting in the decent dusk of Miss Maddison's sitting-room + for a cleaned and chastened Jeremy, Mary touched her aunt's arm and + whispered in her nervous voice: + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Amy—Jeremy hit Ernest because he said rude things about you.” + </p> + <p> + “About me! Nonsense, child.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but it was, really. Ernest said horrid things about you, and then + Jeremy hit him.” + </p> + <p> + “About me? What things?” + </p> + <p> + “That you were ugly,” eagerly continued Mary—never a tactful child, + and intent now only upon Jeremy's reputation—“and wore ugly clothes + and horrid things. He did really. I heard it all.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Amy was deeply moved. Her conceit, her abnormal all-embracing conceit + was wounded—yes, even by so insignificant a creature as the Dean's + Ernest; but she was also unexpectedly touched. She would have greatly + preferred not to be touched, but there it was, she could not help herself. + She did not know that, in all her life before, anyone had ever fought for + her, and that now of all champions in the world fate should have chosen + Jeremy, who was, she had supposed, her enemy—never her defender! + </p> + <p> + And that horrid child of the Dean—she had always disliked him, with + his long yellow neck and watery eyes! How dared he say such things about + her! He had always been rude to her. She remembered once— + </p> + <p> + Jeremy arrived, washed, brushed, and obstinate. He would, of course, be + scolded to within an inch of his life, and he did not care. He had seen + the Dean's Ernest howling and kicking on the ground; he had soiled his + straw hat for him, dirtied his stiff white collar for him, and made his + nose bleed. He glared at his aunt (one eye was rapidly disappearing + beneath a blue bruise), and he was proud, triumphant, and very tired. + </p> + <p> + Farewells were made—again many apologies—“Nothing, I assure + you, nothing. Boys will be boys, I know,” from Miss Maddison. + </p> + <p> + Then they were seated in the jingle, Jeremy next to Aunt Amy, awaiting his + scolding. It did not come. Aunt Amy tried; she knew what she should say. + She should be very angry, disgusted, ashamed. She could not be any of + these things. That horrid boy had insulted her. She was touched and proud + as she had never been touched and proud in her life before. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy waited, and then as nothing came his weariness grew upon him. As + the old fat pony jogged along, as the evening colours of street and sky + danced before him, sleep came nearer and nearer. + </p> + <p> + He nodded, recovered, nodded and nodded again. His body pressed closer to + Aunt Amy's, leaned against her. His head rested upon her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + After a moment's pause she put her arm round him—so, holding him, + she stared, defiantly and crossly, upon the world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. RELIGION + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + Always in after years Jeremy remembered that party of Miss Maddison's, not + because it had been there that he had won his first fight, but for the + deeper reason that from that day his life received a new colour, woven + into the texture of it; even now when he thinks of those hours that + followed Miss Maddison's party he catches his breath and glances around + him to see whether everything is safe. The children, on arriving home that + evening, found that their father and mother had already returned from + Drymouth. Jeremy, sleepy though he was, rushed to his mother, held her + hand, explained his black eye, and then suddenly, in a way that he had, + fell asleep, there as he was, and had to be carried up to bed. + </p> + <p> + When he awoke next morning his first thought was of his mother. He did not + know why; she was so definitely part of the background of his daily life + that he felt too sure of her continual and abiding presence to need + deliberate thought of her. But this morning he wanted to get up quickly + and find her. Perhaps her absence had made him feel more insecure, but + there had also been something that night, something in her face, something + in the touch of her hand. + </p> + <p> + And the other thing that he realised was that summer had truly come. He + knew at once that hot smell that pressed even through the closed + window-panes of his room; the bars and squares of light on the floor when + he jumped out of bed and stood upon them seemed to burn the soles of his + feet, and the rays of light on the ceiling quivered as only summer + sunlight can quiver. The two windows of his bedroom looked back behind + Polchester over fields and hedges to a dim purple line of wood. A tiny + stream ran through the first two fields, and this little river was shining + now with a white hot light that had yet the breeze of the morning ruffling + it. He ran to his window and opened it. Beyond the wall that bordered + their house was a little brown path, and down this path, even as he + watched, a company of cows were slowly wandering along. Already they were + flapping their ears lazily in anticipation of the flies, and the boy who + was driving them was whistling as one only whistles on a summer morning. + He could see the buttercups, too, in the nearest field; they seemed to + have sprung to life in the space of a night. Someone was pulling the rope + of a well somewhere and someone else was pouring water out upon some stone + court. Even as he watched, a bee came blundering up to his window, + hesitated for a moment, and then went whirring off again, and through all + the sun and glitter and the sparkle of the little river there was a scent + of pinks, and mignonette, and even, although it could not really be so, of + the gorse. The sky was a pale white blue, so pale that it was scarcely any + colour at all and a few puffs of clouds, dead white like the purest smoke, + hovered in dancing procession, above the purple wood. The sun burnt upon + his bare feet and his head and his hands. + </p> + <p> + This coming of summer meant so much more to him than merely the immediate + joy of it—it meant Rafiel and Cow Farm and the Cove and green pools + with crabs in them, and shrimping and paddling and riding home in the + evening on haycarts, and drinking milk out of tin cans, and cows and small + pigs, and peeling sticks and apples, and collecting shells, and + fishermen's nets, and sandwiches, and saffron buns mixed with sand, and + hot ginger beer, and one's ears peeling with the sun, and church on Sunday + with the Rafiel sheep cropping the grass just outside the church door, and + Dick Marriott, the fisherman, and slipping along over the green water, + trailing one's fingers in the water, in his boat, and fishy smells by the + sea-wall, and red masses of dog-fish on the pier, and the still cool feel + of the farmhouse sheets just after getting into bed—all these things + and a thousand more the coming of summer meant to Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + But this morning he did not feel his customary joy. Closing his window and + dressing slowly, he wondered what was the matter. What could it be? It was + not his eye—certainly it was a funny colour this morning and it hurt + when you touched it, but he was proud of that. No, it was not his eye. And + it was not the dog, who came into his room, after scratching on the door, + and made his usual morning pretence of having come for any other purpose + than to see his friend and master, first looking under the bed, then going + up to the window pretending to gaze out of it (which he could not do), + barking, then rolling on a square of sunlit carpet, and, after that, lying + on his back, his legs out stiff, his ridiculous “Imperial” pointed and + ironical, then suddenly turning, with a twist on his legs, rushing at last + up to Jeremy, barking at him, laughing at him, licking him, and even + biting his stockings—last of all seizing a bedroom slipper and + rushing wildly into the schoolroom with it. + </p> + <p> + No, there was nothing the matter with Hamlet. Nor was there anything the + matter with Miss Jones, free, happily, from her customary neuralgia, and + delighted with the new number of the Church Times. Nor was it the + breakfast, which to-day included bacon and strawberry jam. Nor, finally, + was it Mary or Helen, who, pleased with the summer weather (and Mary + additionally pleased with the virtues of Lance as minutely recorded in the + second volume of “The Pillars of the House”), were both in the most + amiable of tempers. No, it must be something inside Jeremy himself. + </p> + <p> + He waited until the end of breakfast to ask his question: + </p> + <p> + “Can I go and see Mother, Miss Jones?” + </p> + <p> + Mary and Helen looked across at him inquisitively. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to see your mother for now, Jeremy? You always see her + at twelve o'clock.” Miss Jones pushed her spectacles lower upon her nose + and continued her reading. + </p> + <p> + “I want to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can't now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I say not—that's enough.” + </p> + <p> + But Jeremy was gentle to-day. He got off his chair, went round to Miss + Jones's chair, and, looking up at her out of his bruised eye, said in the + most touching voice: + </p> + <p> + “But, please, Miss Jones, I want to. I really do.” + </p> + <p> + Then she said what he had known all the time was coming: + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you won't see your mother to-day, dear. She's not well. She's + in bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Is she ill?” + </p> + <p> + “She's tired after her journey yesterday, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + He said no more. + </p> + <p> + He tried during the whole of that day not to think of his mother, and he + found that, for the first time in his life, he could do nothing else but + think of her. During the morning he sat very silently over his lessons, + did all that he was told, did not once kick Mary under the table, nor ask + Miss Jones to sharpen his pencil, nor make faces at Hamlet. Once or twice, + in a way that he had, he leaned his head on his hand as though he were an + ancient professor with a whole library of great works behind him, and when + Miss Jones asked him whether he had a headache he said: “No, thank you,” + instead of seizing on the wonderful opportunity of release that such a + question offered him. When they all went for a walk in the afternoon, he + sprang for a moment into something of his natural vivacity. They came upon + a thin, ill-shaven tramp dressed as a sailor, with a patch over one eye, + producing terrible discordance from a fiddle. This individual held in one + hand a black tin cup, and at his side crouched a mongrel terrier, whose + beaten and dishevelled appearance created at once hopes in the breast of + the flamboyant Hamlet. This couple were posted just outside Mr. Poole's + second-hand bookshop, close to the “2d.” box, and for a moment Jeremy was + enthralled. He wanted to give the hero his week's penny, and upon finding + that his week's penny was not, owing to sweet purchases on the previous + day, he began elaborate bargainings with Miss Jones as to the forestalling + of future pennies. Meanwhile, Hamlet leapt, with every sign of joyful + expectation, upon the pauper dog; the blind sailor began to hit wildly + about with his stick, Mr. Poole's “2d.” box was upset, and the sailor's + black patch fell off, revealing him as the possessor of two beautiful + eyes, just like any other gentleman, and a fine, vigorous stock of the + best Glebeshire profanities. Mr. Poole, an irascible old man, himself came + out, a policeman approached, two old ladies from the Close, well known to + Jeremy, were shocked by the tramp, and the Cathedral bell, as though it + had just awoken up to its real responsibilities, suddenly began to ring. + </p> + <p> + All this was, of course, delightful to Jeremy, and offered so many + possible veins of interest that he could have stayed there for hours. He + wanted very badly to ask the sailor why he covered up a perfectly + wholesome eye with a black patch, and he would have liked to see what + Hamlet could do in the direction of eating up the scattered remnants of + Mr. Poole's “2d.” box; but he was dragged away by the agitated hand of + Miss Jones, having to console himself finally with a wink from the august + policeman, who, known throughout Polchester as Tom Noddy, was a kindly + soul and liked gentlemanly little boys, but persecuted the street sort. + </p> + <p> + For a moment this exciting adventure carried him away, and he even + listened for a minute or two to Mary, who, seizing her opportunity, began + hurriedly: “Once upon a time there lived a sailor, very thin, and he never + washed, and he had a dog and a violin—” But soon he remembered, and + sighed and said: “Oh, bother, Mary!” and then walked on by himself. And + still, all through that hot afternoon, when even the Rope Walk did not + offer any shade, and when the Pol was of so clear a colour that you could + see trout and emerald stones and golden sand as under glass, and when + Hamlet was compelled to run ahead and find a piece of shade and lie there + stretched, panting, with his tongue out, until they came up to him—even + all these signs of a true and marvellous summer did not relieve Jeremy of + his burden. Something horrible was going to happen. He knew it with such + certainty that he wondered how Mary and Helen could be so gaily + light-hearted, and despised them for their carelessness. This was + connected in some way with the hot weather; he felt as though, were a cold + breeze suddenly to come, and rain to fall, he would be happy again. There + had been once a boy, older than he, called Jimmy Bain, a fat, plump boy, + who had lived next door to the Coles. Whenever he had the opportunity he + bullied Jeremy, pinching his arms, putting pins into his legs, and + shouting suddenly into his ears. Jeremy, who had feared Johnny Bain, had + always “felt” the stout youth's arrival before he appeared. The sky had + seemed to darken, the air to thicken, the birds to gather in the “rooky” + wood. + </p> + <p> + He had trembled and shaken, his teeth had chattered and his throat grown + dry for no reason at all. As he had once felt about Johnny Bain so now he + felt about life in general. Something horrible was going to happen.... + Something to do with Mother.... As he came up the road to their house his + heart beat so that he could not hear his own steps. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + They entered the house, and at once even Mary, preoccupied as she was with + her story about the sailor, noticed that something was wrong. + </p> + <p> + “Rose! Rose!” she called out loudly. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Miss Jones. “You must be quiet, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said Mary. “I want Rose to—” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother isn't at all well, dear. I—” + </p> + <p> + And she was interrupted by Rose, who, coming suddenly downstairs, with a + face very different from her usual cheerful one, said something to Miss + Jones in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones gave a little cry: “So soon?... A girl....” And then added: + “How is she?” + </p> + <p> + Then Rose said something more, which the children could not catch, and + vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Very quietly, children,” said Miss Jones, in a voice that trembled; “and + you mustn't leave the schoolroom till I tell you. Your mother—” She + broke off as though she were afraid of showing emotion. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said Jeremy in a voice that seemed new to them all—older, + more resolute, strangely challenging for so small a boy. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother's very ill, Jeremy, dear. You must be a very good boy, and + help your sisters.” + </p> + <p> + “Mightn't I go for just a minute?” + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + They all went upstairs. Then, in the schoolroom, Miss Jones said an + amazing thing. She said: + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you all, children, that you've got a new little sister.” + </p> + <p> + “A new sister!” screamed Mary. + </p> + <p> + Helen said: “Oh, Miss Jones!” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy said: “What did she come for just now, when Mother is ill?” + </p> + <p> + “God wanted her to come, dear,” said Miss Jones. “You must all be very + kind to her, and do all you can—” + </p> + <p> + She was interrupted by a torrent of questions from the two girls. What was + she like? What was her name? Could she walk? Where did she come from? Did + Father and Mother find her in Drymouth? And so on. Jeremy was silent. At + last he said: “We don't want any more girls here.” + </p> + <p> + “Better than having another boy,” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + But he would not take up the challenge. He sat on his favourite seat on + the window-ledge, dragged up a reluctant Hamlet to sit with him, and gazed + out down into the garden that was misty now in the evening golden light, + the trees and the soil black beneath the gold, the rooks slowly swinging + across the sty above the farther side of the road. Hamlet wriggled. He + always detested that he should be cuddled, and he would press first with + one leg, then with another, against Jeremy's coat; then he would lie dead + for a moment, suddenly springing, with his head up, in the hope that the + surprise would free him; then he would turn into a snake, twisting his + body under Jeremy's arm, and dropping with a flop on to the floor. All + these manoeuvres to-day availed him nothing; Jeremy held his neck in a + vice, and dug his fingers well into the skin. Hamlet whined, then lay + still, and, in the midst of indignant reflections against the imbecile + tyrannies of man, fell, to his own surprise, asleep. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy sat there whilst the dusk fell and all the beautiful lights were + drawn from the sky and the rooks went to bed. Rose came to draw the + curtains, and then he left his window-seat, dragged out his toy village + and pretended to play with it. He looked at his sisters. They seemed quite + tranquil. Helen was sewing, and Mary deep in “The Pillars of the House.” + The clock ticked. Hamlet, lost in sleep, snored and sputtered; the whole + world pursued its ordinary way. Only in himself something was changed; he + was unhappy, and he could not account for his unhappiness. It should have + been because his mother was ill, and yet she had been ill before, and he + had been only disturbed for a moment. After all, grown-up people always + got well. There had been Aunt Amy, who had had measles, and the wife of + the Dean, who had had something, and even the Bishop once... But now he + was frightened. There was some perception, coming to him now for the first + time in his life, that this world was not absolutely stable—that + people left it, people came into it, that there was change and danger and + something stronger.... Gradually this perception was approaching him as + though it had been some dark figure who had entered the house, and now, + with muffled step and veiled face, was slowly climbing the stairs towards + him. He only knew that his mother could not go; she could not go. She was + part of his life, and she would always be so. Why, now, when he thought of + it, he could do nothing without his mother; every day he must tell her + what he had done and what he was going to do, must show her what he had + acquired and must explain to her what he had lost, must go to her when he + was hurt and when he was frightened and when he was glad... And of all + these things he had never even thought until now. + </p> + <p> + As he sat there the house seemed to grow ever quieter and quieter about + him. He felt as though he would have liked to have gone to the schoolroom + door and listened. It was terrible imagining the house behind the door—quite + silent—so that the clocks had stopped, and no one walked upon the + stairs and no one laughed down in the pantry. He wished that they would + make more noise in the schoolroom. He upset the church and the orchard and + Mrs. Noah. + </p> + <p> + But the silence after the noise was worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + Soon Miss Jones took the two girls away to her room to fit on some + clothes, an operation which Helen adored and Mary hated. Jeremy was left + alone, and he was, at once, terribly frightened. He knew that it was of no + use to be frightened, and he tried to go on with his game, putting the + church with the apple trees around it and the Noah family all sleeping + under the trees, but at every moment something compelled him to raise his + head and see that no one was there, and he felt so small and so lonely + that he would like to have hidden under something. + </p> + <p> + Then when he thought of his mother all alone and the house so quiet around + her and no one able to go to her he felt so miserable that he turned round + from his village and stared desolately into the fireplace. The thought of + his new sister came to him, but was dismissed impatiently. He did not want + a new sister—Mary and Helen were trouble enough as it was—and + he felt, with an old weary air, that it was time, indeed, that he was off + to school. Nothing was the same. Always new people. Never any peace. + </p> + <p> + He was startled by the sound of the opening door, and, turning, saw his + father. His father and he were never very easy together. Mr. Cole had very + little time for the individual, being engaged in saving souls in the mass, + and his cheery, good-tempered Christianity had a strange, startling + fashion of proving unavailing before some single human case. + </p> + <p> + He did not understand children except when they were placed in masses + before him. His own children, having been named, on their arrival, “Gifts + from God,” had kept much of that incorporeal atmosphere throughout their + growing years. + </p> + <p> + But to-night he was a different man. As he looked at his small son across + the schoolroom floor there was terror in his eyes. Nothing could have been + easier or more simple than his lifelong assumption that, because God was + in His heaven all was right with the world. He had given thanks every + evening for the blessings that he had received and every morning for the + blessings that he was going to receive, and he had had no reason to + complain. He had the wife, the children, the work that he deserved, and + his life had been so hemmed in with security that he had had no difficulty + in assuring his congregation on every possible occasion that God was good + and far-seeing, and that “not one sparrow...” + </p> + <p> + And now lie was threatened—threatened most desperately. Mrs. Cole + was so ill that it was doubtful whether she would live through the night. + He was completely helpless. He had turned from one side to another, simply + demanding an assurance from someone or something that she could not be + taken from him. No one could give him that assurance. Life without her + would be impossible; he would not know what to do about the simplest + matter. Life without her...oh! but it was incredible! + </p> + <p> + Like a blind man he had groped his way up to the schoolroom. He did not + want to see the children, nor Miss Jones, but he must be moving, must be + doing something that would break in upon that terrible ominous pause that + the whole world seemed to him, at this moment, to be making. + </p> + <p> + Then he saw Jeremy. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Where's Miss Jones?” + </p> + <p> + “She's in the next room,” said Jeremy, looking at his father. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” He began to walk up and down the schoolroom. Jeremy left his toy + village and stood up. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mother better, Father?” + </p> + <p> + He stopped in his walk and looked at the boy as though he were trying to + recollect who he was. + </p> + <p> + “No... No—that is—No, my boy, I'm afraid not.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she very bad, Father—like the Dean's wife when she had fever?” + </p> + <p> + His father didn't answer. He walked to the end of the room, then turned + suddenly as though he had seen something there that terrified him, and + hurried from the room. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, suddenly left alone, had a desperate impulse to scream that + someone must come, that he was frightened, that something horrible was in + the house. He stood up, staring at the closed door, his face white, his + eyes large and full of fear. Then he flung himself down by Hamlet and, + taking him by the neck, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “I'm frightened! I'm frightened! Bark or something!... There's someone + here!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Next morning Mrs. Cole was still alive. There had been no change during + the night; to-day, the doctor said, would be the critical day. To-day was + Sunday, and Mr. Cole took his morning service at his church as usual. He + had been up all night; he looked haggard and pale, still wearing that + expression as of a man lost in a world that he had always trusted. But he + would not fail in his duty. “When two or three are gathered together in my + name....” Perhaps God would hear him. + </p> + <p> + It was a day of wonderful heat for May. No one had ever remembered so hot + a day at so early a time of year. The windows of the church were open, but + no breeze blew through the aisles. The relentless blazing blue of the sky + penetrated into the cool shadows of the church, and it was as though the + congregation sat there under shimmering glass. The waves of light shifted, + rose and fell above the bonnets and hats and bare heads, and all the + little choir boys fell asleep during the sermon. + </p> + <p> + The Cole family did not fall asleep. They sat with pale faces and stiff + backs staring at their father and thinking about their mother. Mary and + Helen were frightened; the house was so strange, everyone spoke in + whispers, and, on the way into church, many ladies had asked them how + their mother was. + </p> + <p> + They felt important as well as sad. But Jeremy did not feel important. He + had not heard the ladies and their questions—he would not have cared + if he had. People had always called him “a queer little boy,” simply + because he was independent and thought more than he spoke. Nevertheless, + he had always in reality been normal enough until now. To-day he was + really “queer,” was conscious for the first time of the existence of a + world whose adjacence to the real world was, in after days, to trouble him + so often and to complicate life for him so grievously. The terror that had + come down upon him when his father had left him seemed to-day utterly to + soak through into the very heart of him. His mother was going to die + unless something or somebody saved her. What was dying? Going away, he had + always been told, with a golden harp, to sing hymns in a foreign country. + But to-day the picture would not form so easily. There was silence and + darkness and confusion about this Death. His mother was going, against her + will, and no one could tell him whither she was going. If he could only + stop her dying, force God to leave her alone, to leave her with them all + as she had been before... + </p> + <p> + He fixed his eyes upon his father, who climbed slowly into his pulpit and + gave out the text of his sermon. To-day he would talk about the sacrifice + of Isaac. “Abraham, as his hearers would remember...” and so on. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy listened, and gradually there grew before his eyes the figure of a + strange and terrible God. This was no new figure. He had never thought + directly about God, but for a very long time now he had had Him in the + background of his life as Polchester Town Hall was in the background. But + now he definitely and actively figured to himself this God, this God Who + was taking his mother away and was intending apparently to put her into + some dark place where she would know nobody. It must be some horrible + place, because his father looked so frightened, which he would not look if + his mother was simply going, with a golden harp, to sing hymns. Jeremy had + always heard that this God was loving and kind and tender, but the figure + whom his father was now drawing for the benefit of the congregation was + none of these things. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cole spoke of a God just and terrible, but a God Who apparently for + the merest fancy put His faithful servant to terrible anguish and + distress, and then for another fancy, as light as the first, spared him + his sorrow. Mr. Cole emphasised the necessity for obedience, the need for + a willing surrender of anything that may be dear to us, “because the love + of God must be greater than anything that holds us here on earth.” But + Jeremy did not listen to these remarks; his mind was filled with this + picture of a vast shadowy figure, seated in the sky, his white beard + flowing beneath eyes that frowned from dark rocky eyebrows out upon people + like Jeremy who, although doing their best, were nevertheless at the mercy + of any whim that He might have. This terrible figure was the author of the + hot day, author of the silent house and the shimmering darkened church, + author of the decision to take his mother away from all that she loved and + put her somewhere where she would be alone and cold and silent—“simply + because He wishes...” + </p> + <p> + “From this beautiful passage,” concluded Mr. Cole, “we learn that God is + just and merciful, but that He demands our obedience. We must be ready at + any instant to give up what we love most and best....” + </p> + <p> + Afterwards they all trooped out into the splendid sunshine. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + There was a horrible Sunday dinner when—the silence and the roast + beef and Yorkshire pudding, and the dining-room quivering with heat, + emphasised every minute of the solemn ticking clock—Mary suddenly + burst into tears, choked over a glass of water, and was led from the room. + Jeremy ate his beef and rice pudding in silence, except that once or twice + in a low, hoarse voice whispered: “Pass the mustard, please,” or “Pass the + salt, please.” Miss Jones, watching his white face and the tremble of his + upper lip, longed to say something to comfort him, but wisely held her + peace. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Jeremy collected Hamlet and went to the conservatory. This, + like so many other English conservatories, was a desolate and desperate + little place, where boxes of sand, dry corded-looking bulbs, and an + unhappy plant or two languished, forgotten and forlorn. It had been + inherited with the house many years ago, and, at first, the Coles had had + the ambition to make it blaze with colour, to grow there the most + marvellous grapes, the richest tomatoes, and even—although it was a + little out of place in the house of a clergyman of the Church of England—the + most sinister of orchids. Very quickly the little conservatory had been + abandoned; the heating apparatus had failed, the plants had refused to + grow, the tomatoes never appeared, the bulbs would not burst into colour. + </p> + <p> + For Jeremy the place had had always an indescribable fascination. When he + was very young there had been absolute trust that things would grow; that + every kind of wonder might spring before one's eyes at any moment of the + day. Then, when no wonder came, there had been the thrill of the empty + boxes of earth; the probing with one's fingers to see what the + funny-looking bulbs would be, and watching the fronds of the pale vine. + Afterwards, there was another fascination—the fascination of some + strange and sinister atmosphere that he was much too young to define. The + place, he knew, was different from the rest of the house. It projected, + conventionally enough, from the drawing-room; but the heavy door with + thick windows of red glass shut it off from the whole world. Its rather + dirty and obscure windows looked over the same country that Jeremy's + bedroom window commanded. It also caught all the sun, so that in the + summer it was terribly hot. But Jeremy loved the heat. He was discovered + once by the scandalised Jampot quite naked dancing on the wooden boards, + his face and hands black with grime. No one could ever understand “what he + saw in the dirty place,” and at one time he had been forbidden to go + there. Then he had cried and stamped and shouted, so that he had been + allowed to return. Amongst the things that he saw there were the + reflections that the outside world made upon the glass; it would be + stained, sometimes, with a strange, green reflection of the fields beyond + the wall; sometimes it would catch the blue of the sky, or the red and + gold of the setting sun; sometimes it would be grey with waving shadows + across its surface, as though one were under water. Through the dirty + windows the country, on fine days, shone like distant tapestry, and in the + glass that covered the farther side of the place strange reflections were + caught: of cows, horses, walls, and trees—as though in a kind of + magic mirror. + </p> + <p> + Another thing that Jeremy felt there, was that he was in a glass cage + swinging over the whole world. If one shut one's eyes one could easily + fancy that one was swinging out—swinging—swinging, and that, + suddenly perhaps, the cage would be detached from the house and go + sailing, like a magic carpet, to Arabia and Persia, and anywhere you + pleased to command. + </p> + <p> + To-day the glass burnt like fire, and the green fields came floating up to + be transfigured there like running water. The house was utterly still; the + red glass door shut off the world. Jeremy sat, his arms tightly round + Hamlet's neck, on the dirty floor, a strange mixture of misery, weariness, + fright, and anger. There was already in him a strain of impatience, so + that he could not bear simply to sit down and bewail something as, for + instance, both his sisters were doing at this moment. He must act. They + could not bo happy without their mother; he himself wanted her so badly + that even now, there in the flaming conservatory, if he had allowed + himself to do such a thing, he would have sat and cried and cried and + cried. But he was not going to cry. Mary and Helen could cry—they + were girls; he was going to do something. + </p> + <p> + As he sat there, getting hotter and hotter, there grew, larger and larger + before his eyes, the figure of Terrible God. That image of Someone of a + vast size sitting in the red-hot sky, his white beard flowing, his eyes + frowning, grew ever more and more awful. Jeremy stared up into the glass, + his eyes blinking, the sweat beginning to pour down his nose, and yet his + body shivering with terror. But he had strung himself up to meet Him. + Somehow he was going to save his mother and hinder her departure. At an + instant, inside him, he was crying: “I want my mother! I want my mother!” + like a little boy who had been left in the street, and at the other, “You + shan't have her! You shan't have her!” as though someone were trying to + steal his Toy-Village or Hamlet away from him. His sleepy, bemused, heated + brain wandered, in dazed fashion, back to his father's sermon of that + morning. Abraham and Isaac! Abraham and Isaac! + </p> + <p> + Abraham and Isaac! Suddenly, as though through the flaming glass something + had been flung to him, an idea came. Perhaps God, that huge, ugly God was + teasing the Coles just as once He had teased Abraham. Perhaps He wished to + see whether they were truly obedient as the Jampot had sometimes wished in + the old days. He was only, it might be, pretending. Perhaps He was + demanding that one of them should give up something—something of + great value. Even Jeremy, himself!... + </p> + <p> + If he had to sacrifice something to save his mother, what would be the + hardest sacrifice? Would it be his Toy-Village, or Mary or Helen, or his + soldiers, or his paint-box, or his gold fish that he had in a bowl, or—No, + of course, he had known from the first what would be hardest—it + would, of course, be Hamlet. + </p> + <p> + At this stage in his thinking he removed his arm from Hamlet's neck and + looked at the animal. At the same moment the light that had filled the + glass-house with a fiery radiance that burnt to the very heart of the + place was clouded. Above, in the sky, black, smoky clouds, rolling in fold + after fold, as though some demon were flinging them out across the sky as + one flings a carpet, piled up and up, each one darker than the last. The + light vanished; the conservatory was filled with a thick, murky glow, and + far across the fields, from the heart of the black wood, came the low + rumble of thunder. But Jeremy did not hear that; he was busy with his + thoughts. He stared at the dog, who was lying stretched out on the dirty + floor, his nose between his toes. It cannot truthfully be said that the + resolve that was forming in Jeremy's head had its birth in any fine, noble + idealisms. It was as though some bully, seizing his best marbles, had + said: “I'll give you these back if you hand over this week's + pocket-money!” His attitude to the bully could not truthfully be described + as one of homage or reverence; rather was it one of anger and impotent + rebellion. + </p> + <p> + He loved Hamlet, and he loved his mother more than Hamlet; but he was not + moved by sentiment. Grimly, his legs apart, his eyes shut tight, as they + were when he said his prayers, he made his challenge. + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you Hamlet if you don't take Mother—” A pause. “Only I + can't cut Hamlet's throat. But I could lose him, if that would do.. . Only + you must take him now—I couldn't do it to-morrow.” His voice began + to tremble. He was frightened. He could feel behind his closed eyes that + the darkness had gathered. The place seemed to be filled with rolling + smoke, and the house was so terribly still! + </p> + <p> + He said again: “You can take Hamlet. He's my best thing. You can—You + can—” + </p> + <p> + There followed then, with the promptitude of a most admirably managed + theatrical climax, a peal of thunder that seemed to strike the house with + the iron hand of a giant. Two more came, and then, for a second, a + silence, more deadly than all the earlier havoc. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy felt that God had leapt upon him. He opened his eyes, turned as + though to run, and then saw, with a freezing check upon the very beat of + his heart, that Hamlet was gone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + There was no Hamlet! + </p> + <p> + In that second of frantic unreasoning terror he received a conviction of + God that no rationalistic training in later years was able to remove. + </p> + <p> + There was no Hamlet!—only the dusky dirty place with a black + torrent-driven world beyond it. With a rush as of a thousand whips + slashing the air, the rain came down upon the glass. Jeremy turned, crying + “Mother! Mother! I want Mother!” and flung himself at the red glass doors; + fumbling in his terror for the handle, he felt as though the end of the + world had come; such a panic had seized him as only belongs to the most + desperate of nightmares. God had answered him. Hamlet was gone and in a + moment Jeremy himself might be seized... + </p> + <p> + He felt frantically for the door; he beat upon the glass. + </p> + <p> + He cried “Mother! Mother! Mother!” + </p> + <p> + He had found the door, but just as he turned the handle he was aware of a + new sound, heard distantly, through the rain. Looking back he saw, from + behind a rampart of dusty flower-pots, first a head, then a rough tousled + body, then a tail that might be recognised amongst all the tails of + Christendom. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet (who had trained himself to meet with a fine natural show of + bravery every possible violence save only thunder) crept ashamed, dirty + and smiling towards his master. God had only played His trick—Abraham + and Isaac after all. + </p> + <p> + Then with a fine sense of victory and defiance Jeremy turned back, looked + up at the slashing rain, gazed out upon the black country, at last seized + Hamlet and dragging him out by his hind-legs, knelt there in the dust and + suffered himself to be licked until his face was as though a snail had + crossed over it. + </p> + <p> + The thunder passed. Blue pushed up into the grey. A cool air blew through + the world. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, deep in his heart, the terror remained. In that moment he + had met God face to face; he had delivered his first challenge. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—To the incredulous and cynical of heart authoritative evidence + can be shown to prove that it was on the evening of that Sunday that Mrs. + Cole turned the corner towards recovery. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. TO COW FARM! + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + This next episode in Jeremy's year has, be it thoroughly understood, no + plot nor climax to it—it is simply the chronicle of an Odyssey. Nor + can it be said to have been anything but a very ordinary Odyssey to the + outside observer who, if he be a parent, will tell you that going to the + seaside with the family is the most bothering thing in the world, and if + he is a bachelor or old maid will tell you that being in the same carriage + with other people's children who are going to the sea is an abominable + business and the Law ought to have something to say to it. + </p> + <p> + All through May, June and July Mrs. Cole slowly pulled back to something + like her natural health. The new infant, Barbara by name, was as strong as + a pony, and kicked and screamed and roared so that the house was quite a + new place. Her arrival had done a great deal for Helen, whose gaze had + hitherto been concentrated entirely upon herself; now she suddenly + discovered a new element in life, and it was found that she was “ideal + with a baby” and “a great help to nurse.” This made her more human, and + Barbara, realising as babies always do who understands and who does not, + would behave with Helen when she would behave with no one else. Mary could + not be expected to transfer her allegiance from Jeremy, and then Barbara + was frightened at her spectacles; Jeremy, having Hamlet, did not need a + baby! + </p> + <p> + There came a fine hot morning towards the end of July when Miss Jones + said, suddenly, in the middle of the history lesson: “Saturday week we go + to Rafiel.” Jeremy choked, kicked Mary under the table, and was generally + impossible during the rest of the morning. It was Miss Jones's fault; she + should have chosen her occasion more carefully. Before the evening Jeremy + was standing in the corner for drawing on his bedroom wall-paper enormous + figures in the blackest of black lead. These were to mark the days that + remained before Saturday week, and it was, Jeremy maintained, a perfectly + natural thing to do and didn't hurt the old wall-paper which was dirty + enough anyway, and Mother had said, long ago, he should have a new one. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, impossible to describe what Jeremy felt about it. Each year Cow + Farm and Rafiel had grown more wonderful; this was now the fifth that + would welcome them there. At first the horizon had been limited by + physical incapacity, then the third year had been rainy, and the fourth—ah, + the fourth! There had been very little the matter with that! But this + would be better yet. For one thing, there had never been such a summer as + this year was providing—a little rain at night, a little breeze at + the hottest hour of the day—everything arranged on purpose for + Jeremy's comfort. And then, although he did not know it, this was to be + truly the wonderful summer for him, because after this he would be a + schoolboy and, as is well known, schoolboys believe in nothing save what + they can see with their own eyes and are told by other boys physically + stronger than themselves. + </p> + <p> + Five or six days before the great departure he began to worry himself + about his box. Two years ago he had been given a little imitation green + canvas luggage box exactly like his father's, except that this one was + light enough to carry in one's hand. Jeremy adored this box and would have + taken it out with him, had he been permitted, on all his walks, but he had + a way of filling it with heavy stones and then asking Miss Jones to carry + it for him; it had therefore been forbidden. + </p> + <p> + But he would, of course, take it with him to Cow Farm, and it should + contain all the things that he loved best. At first “all the things that + he loved best” had not seemed so very numerous. There would, first of all, + of course, be the Hottentot, a black and battered clown for whom he had + long ceased to feel any affection, but he was compelled by an irritating + sense of loyalty to include it in the party just as his mother might + include some tiresome old maid “because she had nowhere to go to, poor + thing.” After the Hottentot there would be his paint-box, after the + paint-box a blue writing-case, after the writing-case the family + photographs (Father, Mother, Mary and Helen), after the photographs a toy + pistol, after the pistol Hamlet's ball (a worsted affair rendered by now + shapeless and incoherent), after the ball “Alice in Wonderland” (Mary's + copy, but she didn't know), after “Alice,” “Herr Baby,” after “Herr Baby” + the Prayer Book that Aunt Amy gave him last birthday, after the Prayer + Book some dried flowers which were to be presented to Mrs. Monk, the lady + of Cow Farm (this might be called carrying coals to Newcastle), after the + flowers a Bible, after the Bible four walnuts (very dry and hard ones), + after the walnuts some transfer papers, after the transfer papers six + marbles—the box was full and more than full, and he had not included + the hammer and nails that Uncle Samuel had once given him, nor the + cigarette-case (innocent now of cigarettes, and transformed first into a + home for walking snails, second a grave for dead butterflies, third a + mouse-trap), nor the butterfly net, nor “Struuwelpeter,” nor the picture + of Queen Victoria cut from the chocolate-box, nor—most impossible + omission of all—the toy-village. The toy-village! What must he do + about that? Obviously impossible to take it all—and yet some of it + he must have. Mr. and Mrs. Noah and the church, perhaps—or no, Mrs. + Monk would want to see the garden—it would never do not to show her + the orchard with the apple-trees, and then the youngest Miss Noah! She had + always seemed to Jeremy so attractive with her straight blue gown and hard + red cheeks. He must show her to Mrs. Monk. And the butcher's shop, and + then the sheep, and the dogs and the cows! + </p> + <p> + He was truly in despair. He sat on the schoolroom floor with his + possessions all around him. Only Helen was in the room, and he knew that + it would be no use to appeal to her—she had become so much more + conceited since Barbara's arrival—and yet he must appeal to + somebody, so he said to her very politely: + </p> + <p> + “Please, Helen, I've got my box and so many things to put into it and it's + nearly Saturday already—and I want to show the Noahs to Mrs. Monk.” + </p> + <p> + This would have been a difficult sentence for the most clear-headed person + to unravel, and Helen was, at that moment, trying to write a letter to an + aunt whom she had never seen and for whom she had no sort of affection, so + she answered him rather roughly: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't bother with your box, Jeremy. Can't you see I'm busy?” + </p> + <p> + “You may be busy,” said Jeremy, rising indignantly to his feet, “but I'm + busy too, and my business is just as good as yours with your silly old + letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't bother!” said Helen, whereupon Jeremy crept behind her and + pinched her stocking. A battle followed, too commonplace in its details to + demand description here. It need only be said that Hamlet joined in it and + ran away with Helen's letter which had blown to the ground during the + struggle, and that he ate it, in his corner, with great satisfaction. + Then, when they were at their angriest, Helen suddenly began to laugh + which she did sometimes, to her own intense annoyance, when she terribly + wanted to be enraged, then Jeremy laughed too, and Hamlet yielded up + fragments of the letter—so that all was well. + </p> + <p> + But the problem of the box was not solved—and, in the end, the only + part of the toy village that Mrs. Monk ever saw was the youngest Miss Noah + and one apple-tree for her to sit under. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + The ritual of the journey to Cow Farm was, by this time, of course, firmly + established, and the first part of the ritual was that one should wake up + at three in the morning. This year, however, for some strange mysterious + reason Jeremy overslept himself and did not wake up until eight o'clock, + to find then that everyone was already busy packing and brushing and + rushing about, and that all his own most sacred preparations must be + squeezed into no time at all if he were to be ready. Old Tom Collins's bus + came along at twelve o'clock to catch the one o'clock train, so that + Jeremy might be considered to have the whole morning for his labours, but + that was not going to be enough for him unless he was very careful. + Grown-up people had such a way of suddenly catching on to you and washing + your ears, or making you brush your teeth, or sitting you down in a corner + with a book, that circumnavigating them and outplotting them needed as + much nerve and enterprise as tracking Red Indians. When things were fined + down to the most naked accuracy he had apparently only two “jobs”: one to + accustom Hamlet to walking with a “lead,” the other to close the green + box; but of course Mary would want advice, and there would, in all + probability, be a dispute or two about property that would take up the + time. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed an eventful morning. Trouble began with Mary suddenly + discovering that she had lost her copy of “Alice in Wonderland” and + rushing to Jeremy's box and upsetting all Jeremy's things to see whether + it were there. Jeremy objected to this with an indignation that was + scarcely in the sequel justified, because Mary found the book jammed + against the paint-box and a dry walnut nestling in its centre. She cried + and protested and then suddenly, with the disgusting sentimentality that + was so characteristic of her, abandoned her position altogether and said + that Jeremy could have it, and then cried again because he said he didn't + want it. + </p> + <p> + Then Jeremy had to put everything back into the box again, and in the + middle of this Hamlet ran off with the red-checked Miss Noah between his + teeth and began to lick the blue off her dress, looking up at the + assembled company between every lick with a smile of the loveliest + satisfaction. Then, when the box was almost closed, it was discovered by a + shocked and virtuous Helen that Jeremy had left out his Bible. + </p> + <p> + “There'll be one there,” said Jeremy in an angry agitated whisper, hoping + to escape the attention of Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + “What's that, Jeremy dear?” said Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fancy, Miss Jones!” said Helen. “He's taking all his dirty old toys + and even his old clown, and he's leaving out his Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not!” cried Jeremy, taking it and trying to squeeze it down between + three walnuts and the toy pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jeremy clear, that's not the way to treat your Bible. I'll give you + some paper to wrap it up in, and you'd better take the things out again + and put it in at the bottom of the box.” Yes, obviously he would not be + ready in time. + </p> + <p> + The matter of Hamlet and the “lead” was also very exhausting. Hamlet had + never, in all his days, been tied to anyone or anything. Of course no one + could tell what had been his history before he came strolling on to the + Cole horizon, and it may be that once as a very small puppy he had been + tied on to something. On the whole, that is probable, his protests on this + occasion being of a kind so vehement as to argue some reminiscences behind + them. Mrs. Cole had bought a beautiful “lead” of black leather; of course + he had already a collar studded with little silver nails, and the point + was very simply to fasten the “lead” on to the collar. Jeremy had been + promised that he should conduct Hamlet, and it had seemed, when the + promise had been made, as though it would be a very simple thing to carry + out. Hamlet no sooner saw the cord than he began his ingenious protests, + sitting up and smiling at it, suddenly darting at the recumbent Miss Noah + and rushing round the room with her, finally catching the “lead” itself in + his teeth and hiding with it under Miss Jones's skirt. + </p> + <p> + The result was that Tom Collins's bus arrived when no one in the + schoolroom was in the least prepared for it. Then what confusion there + was! Mrs. Cole, looking strange in her hat and veil, as though she were + dressed up for a play, came urging them to hurry, “because Father was + waiting.” Then Hamlet tied himself and his “lead” round the leg of the + table; then Mary said in her most tiresome manner, apropos of nothing at + all, “You do love me, Jeremy, don't you?” just at the moment when he was + trying to unlace Hamlet, and her lip began to tremble when he said, “Oh, + don't bother,” so that he was compelled to add “Of course I do”; then + Father came running up the stairs with “Really, this is too disgraceful. + We shall miss that train!” + </p> + <p> + Then Uncle Samuel appeared, looking so queer that Jeremy was compelled to + stare at him. Jeremy had seen very little of Uncle Samuel during these + last months. He had hoped, after that wonderful adventure of the Christmas + Pantomime, that they were going to be friends, but it had not been so. He + had been away somewhere, in some strange place, painting, and then, on his + return, he had hid himself and his odd affairs away in some corner of the + house where no one saw him. He had had his life and Jeremy had had his. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless Jeremy was delighted to see him. It would be fun to have him + at Cow Farm with his squashy brown hat, his fat cheeks, his blue painting + smock, and his short legs with huge boots. He was different, in some way, + from all the rest of the world, and Jeremy, even at that early stage of + his education, already perceived that he could learn more from Uncle + Samuel than from any other member of the family. + </p> + <p> + Now he put his head in through the door and said: “Well, you kids, aren't + you ready? It's time!” Then, seeing Miss Jones, he said: “Good morning,” + and bolted like a rabbit. Even then Jeremy noticed that he had paint on + his fingers, and that two of his waistcoat buttons were unfastened. + </p> + <p> + Then down in the hall what confusion there was! Boxes here, there and + everywhere. Mother, Father, Aunt Amy, Uncle Samuel, and, most interesting + of all, Barbara and the new nurse. The new nurse was called Mrs. Pateham, + and she was stout, red-cheeked, and smiling. The bundle in white called + Barbara was, most happily, sleeping; but Hamlet barked at Mrs. Pateham, + and that woke Barbara, who began to cry. Then Collins came in with his + coat off, and the muscles swelling on his shoulders, and handled the boxes + as though they were paper, and the cook, and Rose, and William, the + handy-boy, and old Jordan, the gardener, and Mrs. Preston, a lady from two + doors down, who sometimes came in to help, all began to bob and smile, and + Father said: “Now, my dear. Now, my dear,” and Hamlet wound himself and + his lead round everything that he could see, and Helen fussed and said: + “Now, Jeremy,” and Miss Jones said: “Now, children,” and last of all + Collins said: “Now, mum; now, sir,” and then they all were bundled into + the bus, with the cart and the luggage coming along behind. + </p> + <p> + The drive through the streets was, of course, as lovely as it could be; + not in the least because anyone could see anything—that was hindered + by the fact that the windows of the bus were so old that they were crusted + with a kind of glassy mildew, and no amount of rubbing on the window-panes + provided one with a view—but because the inside of the bus was + inevitably connected with adventure—partly through its motion, + partly through its noise, and partly through its lovely smell. These were, + of course, Jeremy's views, and it can't definitely be asserted that all + grown-up people shared them. But whenever Jeremy had ridden in that bus he + had always been on his way to something delightful. The motion, therefore, + rejoiced his heart, although the violence of it was such that everyone was + thrown against everyone else, so that Uncle Samuel was suddenly hurled + against the bonnet of Miss Jones, and Helen struck Aunt Amy in the chest, + and Jeremy himself dived into his sister Barbara. As to the smell, it was + that lovely well-known one that has in it mice and straw, wet umbrellas + and whisky, goloshes and candle-grease, dust and green paint! Jeremy loved + it, and sniffed on this occasion so often that Miss Jones told him to blow + his nose. As to the noise, who is there who does not remember that rattle + and clatter, that sudden, deafening report as of the firing of a hundred + firearms, the sudden pause when every bolt and bar and hinge sighs and + moans like the wind or a stormy sea, and then that sudden scream of the + clattering windows, when it is as though a frenzied cook, having received + notice to leave, was breaking every scrap of china in the kitchen? Who + does not know that last maddened roar as the vehicle stumbles across the + last piece of cobbled road—a roar that drowns, with a savage and + determined triumph, all those last directions not to forget this, that, + and the other; all those inquiries as to whether this, that, and the other + had been remembered? Cobbles are gone now, and old buses sleep in deserted + courts, and Collins, alas, is not. His youngest son has a motor-garage, + and Polchester has asphalt—sic transit gloria, mundi. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, clutching his green box with one hand and Hamlet's lead with the + other, was in an ecstasy of happiness. The louder the noise, the rocking + motion, the stronger the smell, the better. “Isn't it lovely?” he murmured + to Miss Jones during one of the pauses. + </p> + <p> + It may be that it was at this moment that Uncle Samuel finally made up his + mind about Jeremy. In spite of his dislike, even hatred of children, he + had been coming slowly, during the last two years, to an affection for, + and interest in, his nephew that was something quite new to his cynical, + egoistic nature. It had leapt into activity at Christmas time, then had + died again. Now as, flung first into his sister's bony arms, then on to + the terrified spectacles of his niece Mary, he tried to recover himself, + he was caught and held by that picture of his small nephew, seated, solid + and square, in his blue sailor suit, his bare knees swinging, his hand + clutching his precious box with an energy that defied Fate itself to take + it from him, his mouth set, his eyes staring, radiant with joy, in front + of him. + </p> + <p> + On arrival at the station it was found that the one o'clock to Liskane was + “just about due,” so that there was no time to be lost. They had to rush + along under the great iron dome, passing by the main line, disregarding + the tempestuous express from Truxe that drew up, as it were disdainfully, + just as they passed, and finding the modest side line to Liskane and St. + Lowe. Here there was every kind of excitement for Jeremy. Anyone who has + any kind of passion for observation must have discovered long ago that a + side line has ever so much more charm and appeal about it than a main + line. A main line is scornful of the station in whose heart it consents + for a moment to linger, its eyes are staring forward towards the vast + cities who are impatiently awaiting it; but a side line has its very home + here. So much gossip passes from day to day above its rails (and gossip + that has for its circumference five green fields, a country road, and a + babbling brook), that it knows all its passengers by heart. + </p> + <p> + To the people who travel on a side line, the train itself is still + something of a wonder. How much more was that true thirty years ago. On + this especial line there were only two stations-Liskane and St. Lowe, and, + of a certainty, these stations would not even now be in existence were it + not that St. Lowe was a fishing centre of very great importance. The + little district that comprehended St. Lowe, Garth in Roselands, Stoep in + Roselands, Lucent-Polwint, Rafiel, and all the smaller hamlets around + them, was fed by this line; but, even so, the little train was never + crowded. Tourists did not, and even now do not, go to Polwint and St. Lowe + because “they smell so fishy,” nor to Rafield “because it's too far from + the railway,” nor to the Roseland valleys “because there's nothing to see + there.”, May these reasons hold good for many years to come! + </p> + <p> + Today there were three farmers in brown leggings, with pipes, and thick + knotted walking-sticks, two or three women with baskets, and a child or + so, and an amiable, absent-minded clergyman in a black cloth so faded that + it was now green, reading The Times, and shaking his head over it as he + stumbled up and down the platform. One of the farmers had a large, woolly + sheep-dog, who, of course, excited Hamlet to a frenzy. Jeremy, therefore, + had his time fully occupied in checking this; but he had, nevertheless, + the opportunity to observe how one of the farmers puffed the smoke out of + his cheeks as though he were an engine; how one of the women, with a back + as broad as a wall, had red stockings; and how the clergyman nearly fell + on to the railway-line every time he turned round, and only saved himself + from disaster by a miracle. The train arriving at last, they all climbed + into it, and then had to wait for a hot, grilling half-hour whilst the + engine made up its mind that it was worth its while to take all the + trouble to start off again. + </p> + <p> + “An hour late, upon my word,” said Mr. Cole angrily, when at last, with a + snore and a heave, and a grunt and a scream, they started. “It's really + too bad. I shall have to complain,” which, as everyone present knew, he + had not the slightest intention of doing. In Jeremy's carriage there were + his father, his mother, Uncle Samuel, himself, Mary, and, of course, + Hamlet. Hamlet had never been, in a train before, and his terror at the + way that the ground quivered under him was pitiful to see. He lay first + under the seat, trying to hold himself tightly together, then, when that + failed, he made startled frenzied leaps on to laps (the lead had been + removed for the time), finally he cowered up into the corner behind Uncle + Samuel, who seemed to understand his case and sympathised with it. + Whenever the train stopped (which, being a Glebeshire train, it did + continually), he recovered at once his savoir-faire, asserted his dignity, + gazed through the windows at the fields and cows as though he owned them + all, and barked with the friendly greeting of comrade to comrade whenever + he saw another dog. + </p> + <p> + The next thing that occupied Jeremy's attention was lunch. Many people + despise sandwiches and milk out of beer-bottles and bananas and seed-cake. + Jeremy, of course, did not. He loved anything eaten out of paper, from the + ice-cream sold by the Barney man in Polchester Square (only once did he + secure some) down to the frills that there are round the tail of any + self-respecting ham. But the paper on this journey to Rafield! There was + nothing in the world to touch it. In the first place you spread newspaper + on your knees, then there was paper under the sandwiches (chicken), and + more paper under the sandwiches (beef), and still more under the + sandwiches (egg); there was paper round the seed-cake, and, most wonderful + of all, paper round the jam-puffs. Jam-puffs with strawberry jam eaten in + the odour of ginger-beer and eggshells! Is it possible for life at its + very best to hold more? He kept his jam-puff so long as he could, until at + last Mr. Cole said: “Now, my boy! Finish it up—finish it up. Paper + out of the window-all neat and tidy; that's right!” speaking in that voice + which Jeremy hated, because it was used, so especially, when cod-liver oil + had to be taken. He swallowed his puff in a gulp, and then gazed out of + the window lamenting its disappearance. + </p> + <p> + “Did you like it?” whispered Mary hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “You've got some jam on the side of your nose,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + He was sitting next to his father, who had the corner seat, and he now + devoted all his energies to prevent himself from falling asleep against + his father's leg. But the ginger-beer, the glazed and shining fields + beyond the window, the little blobs of sunlight that danced upon the floor + of the carriage, the scents of food and flowers, and the hot breeze, the + hum of the train, and the dancing of the telegraph wires—all these + things were against him. His head began to nod and then to jump back with + a sudden terrible spring as though an evil demon pulled it with a rope + from behind, the carriage swelled like a balloon, then dwindled into a + thin, straight line. The strangest things happened to his friends and + relations. His mother, who was reading The Church Family Newspaper, + developed two faces and a nose like a post, and Uncle Samuel, who had, in + harsh reality, two chins, seemed to be all folds and creases like a + balloon when it is shivering down into collapse. Jeremy fought with these + fantasies; the lines on the newspaper doubled and redoubled, vanished and + sprang to life again. He said: “I will not,” and, instantly, his head on + the soft part of his father's thigh, was asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + In his dreams he was riding on a cloud all pink and gold, and behind came + a row of shining, white clouds fluffy like bales of wool wrapped round + lighted lanterns. His cloud rose and fell, rose and fell, and a voice said + in his ear: “All is well! All is well! You can go on like this for ever. + There will be jam-puffs soon, and ice-cream, and fish-cakes, and you can + go to China this way whenever you like.” + </p> + <p> + And he said: “Can't I take Hamlet with me?” + </p> + <p> + And the voice answered: “Hamlet is with you already,” and there, behold, + was Hamlet sitting on the pink cloud with a stiff gold collar round his + neck, wagging his tail. And then the voice shouted so loudly that Jeremy + jumped off the pink cloud in his astonishment: “Liskane! Liskane! + Liskane!” and Jeremy jumped and fell and fell—right into his + father's lap, with someone crying in his ear: “Wake up, Jeremy! We're + there! We're there!” + </p> + <p> + His first thought was for his green box, which was, he found, safely and + securely in his hand. Then for Hamlet, who was, he saw with horror, + already upon the platform, the lead trailing behind him like a neglected + conscience, his burning eyes piercing his hair in search of another dog, + whom he smelt but could not see. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, rushing out of the train, seized the lead, scolded his recovered + property, who wore an expression of injured and abandoned innocence, and + looked about him. Yes, this was Liskane—wonderful, marvellous, + magical Liskane! To the bored and cynical adult Liskane may easily appear + to be one of the ugliest, most deserted stations in the whole of Europe, + having nothing on either side of it save barren grey fields that never + grow grass but only stones and bottles, with its single decoration—a + heavy iron bridge that crosses the rails and leads up to the higher road + and the town of Liskane. Ugly enough, but to Jeremy, on this summer + afternoon, the gate to a sure and certain Paradise. + </p> + <p> + Although his family were fussing around him, Barbara crying, Mr. Cole + saying: “Four, Five, Six... But where's the black box? Your black box, + Amy... Six, Seven... But there should be Eight... Seven...” and Mrs. Cole + saying: “And there's my brown bag. The little one with the black handle,” + and Helen saying. “OO, was it adidums, then Nandy-Pandy, Nandy-Pandy...” + and Miss Jones: “Now, Mary! Now, Jeremy! Now, Helen!”; although this was + going on just as it always had gone on, his eyes were searching for the + wagonette. Ah, there it was! He could just see the top of it beyond the + iron bridge, and Jim, the man from the Farm, would be coming down to help + with the boxes; yes, there he was crossing the bridge now, with his red + face and broad shoulders, and the cap on the side of his head, just as he + always wore it. Jeremy recognised him with a strange, little choking + sensation. It was “coming home” to him, all this was—the great event + of his life, and as he looked at the others he realised, young as he was, + that none of them felt it as he did, and the realisation gave him a + strange feeling, half of gratification, half of loneliness. He stood + there, a little apart from the rest of them, clutching his box, and + holding on to Hamlet's lead, feeling so deeply excited that his heart was + like a hard, cold stone jumping up and down, bump, bump, behind his + waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “That's Jim! That's Jim!” he whispered in a hoarse gasp to Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + “Now mind, dear,” she answered in her kindly, groping voice. “You'll be + falling on to the rail if you aren't careful.” + </p> + <p> + It strangely annoyed him that his father should greet Jim just as though + he were some quite ordinary man in Polchester. He himself waited in a + strange agitation until Jim should notice him. The man turned at last, + bending down to pick up a box, saw him, touched his cap, smiling a long, + crooked smile, and Jeremy blushed with happiness. It was the first + recognition that he had had from the farm, and it pleased him. + </p> + <p> + They all moved up to the higher road. Uncle Samuel, coming on at the last, + in a dreamy, moody way, stopping on the bridge to look down at the + railway-line, and then suddenly saying aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Their minds are full of the number of boxes, and whether they'll get tea, + and who's to pay what, and 'How badly I want a wash!' and already + to-morrow they'll be wondering whether they oughn't to be getting home to + Polchester. All sham! All sham!” + </p> + <p> + He wasn't speaking to Jeremy, but to himself. However, Jeremy said: “Did + you see Jim, Uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “He's fatter and redder than last year.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to paint, Uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just lines and circles.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy paused, standing for a moment, and looked puzzled. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you like babies, Uncle Samuel?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even Barbara?” + </p> + <p> + “No—certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't, too... Why don't you paint cows and houses like other people, + Uncle Samuel? I heard Father say once that he never knew what your + pictures meant.” + </p> + <p> + “That's why I paint them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “So that your father shan't know what they mean.” + </p> + <p> + Although he did not understand this any more than he understood his uncle, + Jeremy was pleased with this conversation. It had been, somehow, in tone + with the place and the hour; it had conveyed to him in some strange + fashion that his uncle cared for all of this rather as he himself cared. + Oh! he liked Uncle Samuel! + </p> + <p> + He had hoped that he might have sat on the box next to Jim, but that place + was now piled up with luggage, so he was squeezed in between his mother + and Mrs. Patcham, with Hamlet, very uncomfortable, between his knees. They + drove off down the high road, the hot smell of the grass came to his + nostrils, the sun blazed down upon them, turning the path before them into + gleaming steel, and the high Glebeshire hedges, covered with thin powder, + rose on both sides above them, breaking once and again to show the folding + valleys, and the faint blue hills, and the heavy, dark trees with their + thick, black shadows staining the grass. + </p> + <p> + The cows were clustered sleeping wherever they could find shadow; faintly + sheep-bells tinkled in the distance, and now and then a stream, like + broken glass, floated, cried, and was gone. They drove into a dark wood, + and the sun scattered through the trees in pieces of gold and shadowy + streams of arrowed light. The birds were singing, and whenever the hoofs + of the horses and the wheels turned onto soft moss or lines of grass, in + the sudden silence the air was filled with birds' voices. That proved that + it must now be turning to the evening of the day; the sun was not very + high above the wood, and the sea of blue was invaded by a high galleon of + cloud that hovered with spreading sail, catching gold into its heart as it + moved. They left the wood, crossed the River Garth, and came out on to + moorland. Here, for the first time, Jeremy smelt the sea; the lanes had + been hot, but here the wind blew across the moor, with the smell of + sea-pinks and sea-gulls in it. The grass was short and rough; the soil was + sand. On the horizon was the grey, melancholy tower of a deserted mine. + Some bird flew with swiftly driving wings, crying as it went. The smell of + the moor was as fresh as though the foot of man had never crossed it—deserted, + but not alone; bare, but not empty; uninhabited, but peopled; silent, but + full of voices. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy's excitement grew. He knew now how every line of the road would be. + They left the moor and were on the road leading to Rafield. These were the + days before they built the road from Liskane wide enough for motor-cars + and other horrible inventions. Thirty years ago the way was so narrow that + the briars and ferns brushed your face as you passed, and you could reach + out your hand and pluck snap-dragons and dandelions and fox-gloves. Many + roads twisted in and out upon one another; the corners were so sharp that + sometimes the wagonette seemed to hang upon one wheel as it turned. Still + no sight of the sea, but the smell of it now was everywhere, and sometimes + at a sudden bend there would come a faint beat, beat upon the ear with + something rhyming and measured in it, like the murmur of a sleeping giant. + </p> + <p> + They came to the bend where the hill suddenly dips at a fearful angle down + into Rafield. Here they turned to the right, deep between edges again, + then through a little copse, and then, as though with a whisk of the + finger, right on to Cow Farm itself. + </p> + <p> + It was an old square house, deep red brick, with crooked chimneys, and a + stone court in front of it. To either side of the court there were barns. + Behind the house thick trees, clouded with green, showed. In the middle of + the court was a pump, and all about the flagged stones pigeons were + delicately walking. As they drove up, the pigeons rose in a wheeling + flight against the sky now staining faintly with amber; dogs rushed + barking from the barns; a haycart turned the comer, its wheels creaking, + and four little children perched high on the top of the hay. Then the + hall-door opened, and behold Mrs. Monk, Mr. Monk, and, clustering shyly + behind, the little Monks. + </p> + <p> + In the scene that followed Jeremy was forgotten. He did not know what it + was that made him hang behind the others, but he stood beside the + wagonette, bent down and released Hamlet, and then waited, hiding under + the shadow of the cart. His happiness was almost intolerable; he could not + speak, he could not move, and in the heart of his happiness there was a + strange unhappiness that he had never known before. The loneliness that he + had felt at Liskane Station was intensified, so that he felt like a + stranger who was seeing his father, or his mother, or aunt, or sisters for + the first time. Everything about him emphasised the loneliness: the slow + evening light that was stealing into the sky, the sound of some machine in + the farm-house turning with a melancholy rhythmic whine, a voice calling + in the fields, the rumble of the sea, the twittering of birds in the + garden trees, the bark of a dog far, far away, and, through them all, the + sense that the world was sinking down into silence, and that all the + sounds were slipping away, like visitors hurrying from the park before the + gates are shut; he stood there, listening, caught into a life that was + utterly his own and had no share with any other. He looked around and saw + that they were all going into the house, that Jim and Mr. Monk were busy + with the boxes, and that no one was aware of him. He knew what he wanted. + </p> + <p> + He slipped across the court, and dropped into the black cavernous hole of + the farther barn. At first the darkness stopped him; but he knew his way, + found the steps that led up to the loft, and was soon perched high behind + a little square window that was now blue and gold against the velvety + blackness behind him. This was his favourite spot in all the farm. Here, + all the year, they stored the apples, and the smell of the fruit was thick + in the air, sweet and strong, clinging about every fibre of the place, so + that you could not disturb a strand nor a stone without sending some new + drift of the scent up against your nostrils. All the year after his first + visit, Jeremy had been longing to smell that smell again, and now he knelt + up against the window, drinking it in. With his eyes he searched the + horizon. From here you could see the garden with the sun-dial, the fields + beyond, the sudden dip with the trees at the edge of it bent crossways by + the wind, and there, in such a cup as one's hands might form, just beyond, + was the sea... + </p> + <p> + He stared as though his eyes would start from his head. Behind him was the + cloudy smoke of the apple-scent; in front of him the sun was sinking + towards the dark elms. Soon the trees would catch the sun and hide it; the + galleon cloud that had been over them as they drove was new banked in red + and gold across the horizon; birds slowly, lazily fled to their homes. + </p> + <p> + He heard someone call, “Jeremy! Jeremy!” With a last gaze he saw the blue + cup turn to gold, the sun reached the tops of the elms; the fields were + lit with the glitter of shining glass, then, even as he watched, they were + purple, then grey, then dim like smoke. + </p> + <p> + Again the voice called “Jeremy!” He slipped from the window, found the + little stair, ran across the dusky court and entered the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE AWAKENING OF CHARLOTTE + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + Towards the end of the first fortnight's stay at Cow Farm it was announced + that very shortly there would be a picnic at Rafiel Cove. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy had been waiting for this proclamation; once or twice he had asked + whether they were going to the Cove and had been told “not to bother,” + “all in good time,” and other ridiculous elderly finalities, but he knew + that the day must come, as it had always come every year. The picnic at + Rafield was always the central event of the summer. And he had this year + another reason for excited anticipation—the wonderful Charlotte Le + Page was to be present. Until now Jeremy had never taken the slightest + interest in girls. Mary and Helen, being his sisters, were necessities and + inevitabilities, but that did not mean that he could not get along very + easily without them, and indeed Mary with her jealousies, her strange + sulky temper and sudden sentimental repentances was certainly a burden and + restraint. As to the little girls in Polchester, he had frankly found them + tiresome and stupid, thinking of themselves, terrified of the most natural + phenomena and untruthful in their statements. He had been always + independent and reserved with everyone, and bud never, in all his life, + had a close friend, but there had been, especially of late, boys with whom + it had been amusing to spend an hour or two, and since his fight with the + Dean's Ernest he had thought that it would be rather interesting to make a + further trial of strength with whomsoever... + </p> + <p> + Girls were stupid, uninteresting, conceited and slow. He never, in all his + life, wanted to have anything to do with girls. But Charlotte Le Page was + another matter. She had, in the first place, become quite a tradition in + the Cole family. She was the daughter of a wealthy landowner, who always + spent his holidays in Rafiel. She and her very beautiful, very superior + mother had been seen on many occasions by the Coles driving about the + Glebeshire roads in a fine and languid manner, a manner to which the Coles + knew, very well, they themselves could never attain. Then Mrs. Cole had + called, and Mrs. Le Page and Charlotte had come to tea at Cow Farm. This + had been a year ago, when Jeremy had been only seven; nevertheless, he had + been present during the first part of the ceremony, and Charlotte had + struck him as entirely amazing. + </p> + <p> + He had simply gazed at her with his mouth open, forgetting all his good + manners. She was at this time nine or ten years of age but very small and, + as they say of the most modern kind of doll, “perfect in every + particular.” She had wonderful hair of a bright rippling gold; her cheeks + were pink and her eyes were blue, and she was so beautifully dressed that + you could not take in details but must simply surrender yourself to a + cloudy film of white or blue, with everything so perfectly in its place + that it seemed to the rough and ready Jeremy quite unearthly. Of course + she had to be very careful how she walked, when she sat down, in what way + she moved her hands and feet, and how she blew her nose. It was wonderful + to see her do these things, she did them so naturally and yet always with + a sense of an effort overcome for the good of humanity. Her mother never + ceased to empty praises at her feet, appealing to visitors with: “Isn't + Charlotte too lovely to-day?” or “Really, Mrs. Cole, did you ever see + anything like Charlotte's hair?” or “Just a moment, Mrs. Cole, I'm sure + you've never seen such hands and feet on any human being before!”—and + it was impossible to tell whether or no Charlotte was moved by these + praises, because she never said anything at all. She was almost completely + silent, and once, at the tea-gathering in Cow Farm, when she suddenly + said: “I'm tired, Mama,” Jeremy nearly jumped from his chair, so + astonished he was. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy had, during the year that intervened between that visit and this, + sometimes thought of Charlotte, and he had looked back upon her, not as a + little girl but as something strange, fantastic, wonderfully coloured, + whom it would be interesting to see again. He wondered why Mary and Helen + could not be like that, instead of running about and screaming and + becoming red in the face. He said once to Mary that she should imitate + Charlotte, and the scene that followed was terrible. Mary, from that + moment, hated Charlotte with an overpowering hatred. + </p> + <p> + Here this year they were again. Mrs. Le Page with her long neck, her + beautiful pearl ear-rings, her pale watery eyes and her tapering fingers; + Charlotte just as before, silent, beautiful and precious. There was again + a tea-party at Cow Farm, and on this occasion Jeremy was asked to show + Hamlet. But Hamlet behaved badly, trying to jump upon Charlotte's white + frock and soil her blue ribbons. Charlotte screamed exactly as a doll + screams when you press it in the stomach, and Hamlet was so deeply + astonished at the unexpected noise that he stopped his bad behaviour, sat + on his hind legs, and gazed up at her with an anxious wondering + expression. In spite of this unfortunate incident, the visit went off + well, and Mrs. Cole said that she had never seen anything so lovely as + Charlotte, and Mrs. Le Page said, “No, had anyone ever?” and Charlotte + never turned a hair. The final arrangement was that there should be a + picnic and soon, because “Mr. Le Page has to return to Warwickshire to + look after the Estate—so tiresome, but I've no doubt it's all going + to wrack and ruin without him.” + </p> + <p> + After the picnic had been arranged the Coles were, frankly, a little + uneasy. The family of Le Page was not the easiest in the world to + entertain, and the thought of a whole day with Mr. Le Page, who was a very + black, very silent gentleman and looked as though he were always counting + sums over in his head, was truly alarming. Moreover, in the ordinary way, + a picnic, which depended so entirely for its success on the weather, was + no great risk, because the Coles were indifferent to rain, as all true + Glebeshire people must be. But that the Le Pages should be wet was quite + another affair; the thought of a dripping Mrs. Le Page was intolerable, + but of a dripping Charlotte quite impossible; moreover, the plain but + excellent food—pasties, saffron cake, apples and ginger beer—enjoyed + by the Coles seemed quite too terrestrial for the Le Pages. Mrs. Le Page + and ginger beer! Charlotte and pasties!... nevertheless, the invitation + had been given and accepted. The Coles could but anxiously inspect the + sky... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + There was another reason why Jeremy looked forward to the picnic with + impatience. A funny old lady, named Miss Henhouse, who lived near Cow Farm + in a little cottage all by herself, called sometimes upon the Coles and + told them stories about the people and the place, which made them “sit up + in their chairs.” She was an old lady with sharp eyes, a black moustache + and a double chin, wore an old shabby bonnet, grey mittens and large shoes + which banged after her as she walked. She leant on a cane with a silver + knob to it, and she wore a huge cameo brooch on her breast with a + miniature of herself inside it. She was what is called in novels “a + character.” There was no one who knew so much about Rafiel and its + neighbourhood; she had lived here for ever, her father had been a friend + of Wellington's and had known members of the local Press Gang intimately. + It was from her that Jeremy heard, in detail, the famous story of the + Scarlet Admiral. It was, of course, in any case, a well-known story, and + Jeremy had often heard it before, but Miss Henhouse made it a new, a most + vivid and realistic thing. She sat forward in her chair, leaning on her + silver-headed cane, her eyes staring in front of her, her two chins + bobbing, gazing, gazing as though it all had happened before her very + nose. + </p> + <p> + How one night outside Rafiel Cove there was a terrible storm, and on the + morning afterwards a wonderful, smiling calm, and how the village idiot, + out for his early morning stroll, saw a splendid ship riding beyond the + Cove, a ship of gold with sails of silk and jewelled masts. As he watched, + from the ship a boat pushed out, and then landed on the sand of the Cove a + wonderful company in cocked hats of gold lace, plush breeches of red, and + shoes with diamond buckles. The leader of them was a little man with a + vast cocked hat and a splendid sword all studded with jewels. The fool, + peering over the hedge, saw him give orders to his men, and then walk, + alone, up the little winding path, to the cliff-top. Straight up the path + he came, then right past the fool himself, standing at last upon the + turnip field of Farmer Ede, one of the greatest of the farmers of those + parts. And here he waited, staring out to sea, his arms crossed, his eyes + very fierce and very, very sad. Then a second time from the golden ship a + boat pushed out, cutting its way through the glassy sea—and there + landed on the beach a young man, very beautiful, in a suit of blue and + gold, and he, without a glance at the waiting sailors, also slowly climbed + the sea-path, and at last he too reached Farmer Ede's turnip field. Then + he and the Scarlet Admiral bowed to one another, very beautifully, very + sadly, and very, very fiercely. As the sun rose high in the sky, as the + cows passed clumsily down the lane behind the field so the fool, with eyes + staring and heart thumping, saw these two fight a duel to the death. There + could be no question, from the first, how it would end. The beautiful + young man in his fine blue suit and his white cambric shirt had despair + upon his face. He knew that his hour had come. And the eyes of the Scarlet + Admiral were ever sadder and ever fiercer. Then, with a sudden move, a + little turn of his agile body, the Scarlet Admiral had the young man + through the breast. The young man threw up his arms and cried; and as the + Scarlet Admiral withdrew his sword, dripping with blood from his body, the + young man fell backwards over the cliff into the sea. Then the Scarlet + Admiral wiped his sword on the grass and, slowly and sadly, walked down + the cliff-path even as he had walked up. He joined his men, they found + their boat, pushed out to their ship, and even as they landed upon her she + had disappeared. A moment later the fool saw the parson of Rafiel Church + coming round the corner for his morning bathe, and two minutes afterwards + nothing human was to be seen save the naked limbs of the parson and his + little bundle of black clothes lying neatly upon a stone. Then the fool + ran all the way home to his mother who was a widow, and sat and cried and + cried for the beautiful young man who had been slain, nor would he eat, + nor taste the excellent Rafiel beer, and he pined away, and at last he + died, first telling this history to his mother, who, like all widows, was + a garulous woman and loved a good story... + </p> + <p> + Impossible to imagine with what life and fire old Miss Henhouse gave this + history. You could see with your own eyes the golden ship, the diamond + buckles of the Scarlet Admiral, the young man's sad eyes, the parson's + black clothes. When she had finished it seemed to Jeremy that it must have + been just so. She told him that now on a summer morning or evening the + Scarlet Admiral might still be seen, climbing the cliff-path, wiping his + sword upon the grass, gazing out with sad eyes to sea. Jeremy swore to + himself that on the next occasion of visiting the Cove he would watch... + he would watch-but to no single human being would he speak anything of + this. + </p> + <p> + This was the second reason why he had looked forward so eagerly to the + sea-picnic. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + The day arrived, and it was marvellously fine—one of those days in + August when heat possesses the world and holds it tranced and still, but + has in the very strength of its possession some scent of the decay and + chill of autumn that is to follow so close upon its heels. There was no + breeze, no wind from the sea, only a sky utterly without cloud and a world + without sound. + </p> + <p> + Punctually at eleven of the morning the splendid Le Page equipage arrived + at Cow Farm. Splendid it was! A large wagonette, with a stout supercilious + fellow on the box who sniffed at the healthy odours of the farm and stared + haughtily at Mrs. Monk as though she should be ashamed to be alive. The + Coles had provided a small plump “jingle” with a small plump pony, their + regular conveyance; the pony was Bob, and he would not go up hills unless + persuaded with sugar, but Jeremy loved him and would not have ridden + behind any other steed in the whole world. How contemptuously the big + black horses of the wagonette gazed down their nostrils at Bob, and how + superbly Mrs. Le Page, sitting very upright under her white sunshade, + greeted Mrs. Cole! + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mrs. Cole. Such a hot morning, isn't it? Lovely, of course, but so + hot.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid,” Jeremy heard his mother say, “that your carriage will never + get down the Rafiel Lane, Mrs. Le Page. We hoped you'd come in the + dog-cart. Plenty of room...” + </p> + <p> + Superb to witness the fashion in which Mrs. Le Page gazed at the dog-cart. + </p> + <p> + “For all of us?... Dear Mrs. Cole, I scarcely think—And Charlotte's + frock...” + </p> + <p> + Then Jeremy turned his eyes to Charlotte. She sat under a miniature + sunshade of white silk and lace, a vision of loveliness. She was a shimmer + of white, a little white cloud that had settled for a moment upon the seat + of the carriage to allow the sun to dance upon it, to caress it with + fingers of fire, so to separate it from the rest of the world for ever as + something too precious to be touched. Jeremy had never seen anything so + lovely. + </p> + <p> + He blushed and scraped his boots the one against the other. + </p> + <p> + “And this is Jeremy?” said Mrs. Le Page as though she said: “And this is + where you keep your little pigs, Mr. Monk?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeremy, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte, you know Jeremy. You must be friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Charlotte, without moving. Then Jeremy tumbled into the stern + gaze of Mr. Le Page who, arrayed as he was in a very smart suit of the + whitest flannels, looked with his black beard and fierce black eyebrows + like a pirate king disguised. + </p> + <p> + “How are you?” said Mr. Le Page in a deep bass voice. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, thank you,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth, Mrs. Cole's heart sadly misgave her when she saw the Le + Page family all sitting up so new and so bright in their new and bright + carriage. She thought of the simple preparations that had been made—the + pasties, the saffron buns and the ginger beer; she looked around her at + the very plain but useful garments worn by her family, her husband in + faded grey flannel trousers and a cricketing shirt, Helen and Mary in the + simplest blue cotton, and Jeremy in his two-year-old sailor suit. She had + intended to bring their bathing things in a bundle, but now she put them + aside. It was obvious that the Le Pages had no intention of bathing. She + sighed and foresaw a difficult day ahead of her. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that the Le Pages did not intend to come one step farther + into Cow Farm than was necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mrs. Cole, on a hot day—how can you endure the smells of a + farm... such a charming farm, too, with all its cows and pigs, but in this + weather... Charlotte darling, you don't feel the heat? No? Hold your + sun-shade a little more to the right, love. That's right. She was not + quite the thing last night, Mrs. Cole. I had some doubts about bringing + her, but I knew you'd all be so disappointed. She's looking rather lovely + to-day, don't you think? You must forgive a mother's partiality... Oh, + you're not bringing that little dog, are you? Surely—” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy, who had from the first hated Mrs. Le Page, forgot his shyness and + brought out fiercely: + </p> + <p> + “Of course he's coming. Hamlet always goes everywhere with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Hamlet!” said Mr. Le Page in his deep bass voice. + </p> + <p> + “What a strange name for a dog!” said Mrs. Le Page in tones of vague + distrust. + </p> + <p> + At last it was settled that one member of the Cole party should ride with + the Le Pages, and Mary was selected. Poor Mary! inevitably chosen when + something unpleasant must be done. To-day it was especially hard for her, + because she entertained so implacable a hatred for the lovely Charlotte + and looked, it must be confessed, so plain and shabby by the side of her. + Indeed, to any observer with a heart it must have been touching to see + Mary driven away in that magnificent black carriage, staring with agonised + hostility in front of her through her large spectacles, compelled to + balance herself exactly between the magnificent sunshade of Mrs. Le Page + and the smaller but also magnificent sunshade of the lovely Charlotte. + Mrs. Cole, glancing in that direction, may have felt with a pang that she + would never be able to make her children handsome and gay as she would + like to do—but it was certainly a pang of only a moment's duration. + </p> + <p> + She would not have exchanged her Mary for a wagon-load of Charlottes. + </p> + <p> + And Jeremy, bumping along in the jingle, also felt the contrast. Why could + not Mary wear her straw hat straight, and why must she have elastic under + her chin? Why did she look so cross and so stupid? Why did she bother him + so with her worries? Charlotte would never worry him. She would just sit + there, looking beautiful, with her golden hair, and blue eyes and pink + cheeks. Next week was to be Miss Jones's birthday, and in preparation for + this he had bought for her in Polchester a silver thimble. He wondered + whether he would not give Charlotte this thimble instead of Miss Jones. He + could give Miss Jones some old thing he would find somewhere, or he would + go out and pick for her some flowers. She would be pleased with anything. + He wondered what Charlotte would say when he gave her the thimble. She + would like it, of course. She would smile. She would open her eyes and + look at him. Fortunately he had the thimble even now in his pocket. He had + bought it when he was wearing this same suit. Yes, he would give it to + her. As he decided this he looked at Miss Jones guiltily, but she was + making such odd faces as she squinted to escape from the sun that he did + not feel ashamed. + </p> + <p> + They came to that steep hill just beyond Garth woods, and Bob, of course, + refused to move. The superb Le Page affair dashed past them, shouted + something at them, and disappeared over the brow of the hill. The last + thing to be seen of them were the fierce despairing eyes of the imprisoned + Mary. A strange sensation of relief instantly settled upon the Coles. For + a moment they were alone; they began slowly to walk up the hill, dragging + with them the reluctant Bob. About them was peace, absolute and unstained. + The hard glitter of the day shone upon the white road, but behind them the + wood was dark and cool, a green cloud against the sky. Behind the steep + hedges the harvesters were moving. In the air a lark was singing, and + along the ditch at the road side a tiny stream tumbled. And beyond these + sounds there was a vast tranquil silence. + </p> + <p> + The Coles moved up the hill very slowly, only Hamlet racing ahead to find + spots of shadow where he might lie down and pant. They would not confess + to themselves that this promised to be the happiest moment of their day. + They went bravely forward. + </p> + <p> + On the bend of the hill the Le Pages were waiting for them. What Mrs. Cole + had foreseen had in truth occurred. The Le Page carriage would not go down + the Rafiel Lane. No, it would, not... Nothing would induce it to. + </p> + <p> + “James,” said Mrs. Le Page to her stout and disdainful attendant. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, ma'am,” said James. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, dear me,” said Mrs. Le Page. “Well then, we must walk,” said the + deep despairing voice of the Pirate King. + </p> + <p> + And walk they did. + </p> + <p> + That walk was, as Mrs. Cole afterwards said, “a pity,” because it + destroyed the Le Page tempers when the day was scarcely begun. Mr. Le Page + was, it was quickly descried, not intended for walking. Strong and fierce + though he seemed, heat instantly crumpled him up. The perfect crease of + his white trousers vanished, his collar was no longer spotless, little + beads of perspiration appeared almost at once on his forehead, and his + black beard dripped moisture. Mrs. Le Page, with her skirts raised, walked + as though she were passing through the Valley of Destruction; every step + was a risk and a danger, and the difficulty of holding her skirts and her + sunshade at the same time, and of seeing that her shoes were not soiled + and her hat not caught by an offending bough gave her face an expression + of desperate despair. + </p> + <p> + There was, unfortunately, one spot very deep down in the lane where the + ground was never dry even in the height of the hottest summer. + </p> + <p> + A little stream ran here across the path, and the ground on either side + was soft and sodden. Mrs. Le Page, struggling to avoid an overhanging + branch, stepped into the mud; one foot stuck there, and it needed Mr. + Cole's strong arm to pull her out of it. + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte! Charlotte!” she cried. “Don't let Charlotte step into that! + Mr. Cole! Mr. Cole! I charge you—my child!” Charlotte was conveyed + across, but the damage was done. One of Mrs. Le Page's beautiful shoes was + thick with mud. + </p> + <p> + When, therefore, the party, climbing out of the Lane, came suddenly upon + the path leading down to the Cove, with the sea, like a blue cloud in + front of them, no one exclaimed at the view. It was a very beautiful view—one + of the finest of its kind in the United Kingdom, the high rocks closing in + the Cove and the green hills closing in the rocks. On the hill to the + right was the Rafiel Old Church, with its graveyard that ran to the very + edge of the cliff, and behind the Cove was a stream and a green orchard + and a little wood. The sand of the Cove was bright gold, and the low rocks + to either side of it were a dark red—the handsomest place in the + world, with the water so clear that you could see down, far down, into + green caverns laced with silver sand. Unfortunately, at the moment when + the Coles and their friends beheld it, it was blazing in the sun; soon the + sun would pass and, during the whole afternoon, half of it at least would + lie in shadow, but the Le Pages could not be expected to think of that. + </p> + <p> + The basket was unloaded from the jingle and carried down to the beach by + Mr. Cole and Jim. Jeremy, finding himself at the side of the lovely + Charlotte, was convulsed with shyness, the more that he knew that the + unhappy Mary was listening with jealous ears. Charlotte, walking like + Agag, “delicately,” had a piteous expression in her eyes as though she + were being led to the torture. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy coughed and began: “We always come here every year. Don't you like + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said miserably. + </p> + <p> + “And we paddle and bathe. Do you like bathing?” + </p> + <p> + “Going into the sea?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! Mother says I mustn't, because it'll hurt my hair. Do you like my + hair?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeremy, blushing at so direct an invitation to compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Mother says I've got to be very careful of my hair because it's my chief + beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “I have a maid, Alice, and she brushes a whole hour every morning and a + whole hour every evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you get very tired?” asked Jeremy. “I know I should.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother says if you have such beautiful hair you must take trouble with + it,” Charlotte gravely replied. + </p> + <p> + Her voice was so like the voice of a parrot that Jeremy's grandmother had + once possessed that it didn't seem as though a human being was speaking at + all. They were near the beach now and could see the blue slipping in, + turning into white bubbles, then slipping out again. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like my frock?” said Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “It was bought in London. All my clothes are bought in London.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary's and Helen's aren't,” said Jeremy with some faint idea of + protecting his sisters. “They're bought in Polchester.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother says,” said Charlotte, “that if you're not pretty it doesn't + matter where you buy your clothes.” + </p> + <p> + They arrived on the beach and stared about them. It became at once a great + question as to where Mrs. Le Page would sit. She could not sit on the sand + which looked damp, nor equally, of course, on a rock that was spiky and + hard. What to do with her? She stood in the middle of the beach, still + holding up her skirts, gazing desperately about her, looking first at one + spot and then at another. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, the heat!” she exclaimed. “Is there no shade anywhere? Perhaps + in that farm-house over there...” It was probable enough that no member of + the Cole family would have minded banishing Mrs. Le Page into the + farmhouse, but it would have meant that the whole party must accompany + her. That was impossible. They had come for a picnic and a picnic they + would have. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cole watched, with growing agitation, the whole situation. She saw + from her husband's face that he was rapidly losing his temper, and she had + learnt, after many experiences, that when he lost his temper he was + capable of anything. That does not mean, of course, that he ever was angry + to the extent of swearing or striking out with his fists—no, he + simply grew sadder, and sadder, and sadder, and this melancholy had a way + of reducing to despair all the people with whom he happened to be at the + time. + </p> + <p> + “What does everyone say to our having lunch now?” cried Mrs. Cole + cheerfully. “It's after one, and I'm sure everyone's hungry.” + </p> + <p> + No one said anything, so preparations were begun. A minute piece of shade + was found for Mrs. Le Page, and here she sat on a flat piece of rock with + her skirts drawn close about her as though she were afraid of rats or + crabs. A tablecloth was laid on the sand and the provisions spread out—pasties + for everybody, egg-sandwiches, seed-cake, and jam-puffs—and ginger + beer. It looked a fine feast when it was all there, and Mrs. Cole, as she + gave the final touch to it by placing a drinking glass containing two red + rose-buds in the middle, felt proud of her efforts and hoped that after + all the affair might pass off bravely. But alas, how easily the proudest + plans fall to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I hope, Alice, you haven't forgotten the salt!” + </p> + <p> + Instantly Mrs. Cole knew that she had forgotten it. She could see herself + standing there in Mrs. Monk's kitchen forgetting it. How could she? And + Mrs. Monk, how could SHE? It had never been forgotten before. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she said wildly. “Oh, no! I'm sure I can't have forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + She plunged about, her red face all creased with anxiety, her hat on one + side, her hands searching everywhere, under the tablecloth, in the basket, + amongst the knives and forks. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, you haven't dropped anything?” + </p> + <p> + “No, mum. Beggin' your pardon, mum, the basket was closed, so to speak—closed + it was.” + </p> + <p> + No, she knew that she had forgotten it. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry, Mrs. Le Page, I'm afraid—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mrs. Cole! What does it matter? Not in the least, I assure you. + In this heat it's impossible to feel hungry, isn't it? I assure you I + don't feel as though I could touch a thing. A little fruit, perhaps—an + apple or a peach—” + </p> + <p> + Fruit? Why hadn't Mrs. Cole brought fruit? She might so easily have done + so, and she had never thought about it. They themselves were rather tired + of fruit, and so— + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid we've no fruit, but an egg-sandwich—” + </p> + <p> + “Eggs need salt, don't you think? Not that it matters in the very least, + but so that you shouldn't think me fussy. Really, dear Mrs. Cole, I never + felt less hungry in my life. Just a drop of milk and I'm perfectly + satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “Jeremy shall run up to the farm for the milk. You don't mind, Jeremy + dear, do you? It's only a step. Just take this sixpence, dear, and say + we'll send the jug back this afternoon if they'll spare one.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy did mind. He was enjoying his luncheon, and he was gazing at + Charlotte, and he was teasing Hamlet with scraps—he was very happy. + Nevertheless, he started off. + </p> + <p> + So soon as he left the sands the noise of the sea was shut off from him, + and he was climbing the little green path up which the Scarlet Admiral had + once stalked. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he remembered—in his excitement about Charlotte he had + forgotten the Admiral. He stood for a moment, listening. The green hedge + shut off the noise of the sea—only above his head some birds were + twittering. He fancied that he heard footsteps, then that beyond the hedge + something was moving. It seemed to him that the birds were also listening + for something. “Well, it's the middle of the afternoon, anyway.” He + thought to himself, “He never comes there—only in the morning or + evening,” but he hurried forward after that, wishing that he had called to + Hamlet to accompany him. It was a pleasant climb to the farm through the + green orchard, and he found at the farm door an agreeable woman who smiled + at him when she gave him the milk. He had to come down the hill carefully, + lest the milk should be spilt. He walked along very happily, humming to + himself and thinking in a confused summer afternoon kind of manner of + Charlotte, Hamlet, Mrs. Le Page and himself. “Shall I give her the thimble + or shan't I? I could take her to the pools where the little crabs are. + She'd like them. I wonder whether we're going to bathe. Mrs. Le Page will + look funny bathing...” Then he was in the green lane again, and at once + his discomfort returned to him, and he looked around his shoulder and into + the hedges, and stopped once and again to listen. There was no sound. The + birds, it seemed, had all fallen to sleep. The hedges, he thought, were + closer about him. It was very hot here, with no breeze and no comforting + sound of the sea. “I wonder whether he really does come,” he thought. “It + must be horrid to see him—coming quite close.” And the thought of + the Fool also frightened him. The Fool with his tongue out and his shaking + legs, like the idiot who lived near the Cathedral at home. At the thought + of this Jeremy suddenly took to his legs and ran, covering the top of his + jug with his hand; then, when he came out on to the strip of grass that + crossed the top of the beach, he stopped, suddenly ashamed of himself. + Scarlet Admirals! Scarlet Admirals! How could there be Scarlet Admirals in + a world that also contained so blazing a sun, so blue a sea, and the + gorgeous realities of the Le Page family. He arrived at the luncheon party + hot and proud and smiling, so cheerful and stolid and agreeable that even + Mrs. Le Page was compelled to say, “Really, Mrs. Cole, that's a very nice + little boy of yours. Come here, little Jeremy, and talk to me!” How deeply + he hated being called “little Jeremy” only Mary and Helen knew. Their eyes + flew to his face to see how he would take it. He took it very well. He sat + down beside Mrs. Le Page, who very gracefully and languidly sipped at her + glass of milk. + </p> + <p> + “How old are you, Jeremy dear?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Eight,” he answered, wriggling. + </p> + <p> + “What a nice age! And one day you'll go to school?” + </p> + <p> + “In September.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will you be when you're a man?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. I'll be a soldier, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't like to be a soldier and kill people.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I would. There's lots of people I'd like to kill.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Le Page drew her skirts back a little. + </p> + <p> + “How horrible! I'm sure your mother wouldn't like to hear that.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Cole had caught the last words of the dialogue and interrupted + with: + </p> + <p> + “But what could be finer, Mrs. Le Page, than the defence of one's country? + Would you have our young lads grow up faint-hearted and fail their + Motherland when she calls? What can be finer, I say, than to die for Queen + and country? Would not every mother have her son shed his blood for + liberty and freedom?... No, Jeremy, not another. You've had quite enough. + It would indeed be a disheartening sight if we elders were to watch our + sons and grandchildren turning their swords into ploughshares—” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a shrill cry from Mrs. Le Page: + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte, darling, do hold your sunshade up. All the left side of your + face is exposed. That's better, dear. I beg your pardon, Mr. Cole.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Cole was offended. + </p> + <p> + “I hope no son of mine will ever show himself a faint heart,” he concluded + severely. + </p> + <p> + The luncheon, in fact, had been a most dismal failure. The Coles could + fling their minds back to luncheons on this same beach that had been + simply riotous successes. What fun they had had! What games! What bathes? + Now the very sight of Mr. Le Page's black beard was enough. Even Jeremy + felt that things were wrong. Then he looked at Charlotte and was + satisfied. There she sat, straight and stiff, her hands on her lap, her + hair falling in lovely golden ripples down her back, her gaze fixed on + distance. Oh! she was beautiful! He would do whatever she told him; he + would give her Miss Noah and the apple tree; he would—A sound + disturbed his devotions. He turned. Both Mr. and Mrs. Le Page were fast + asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + “Children,” whispered Mrs. Cole, “very quietly now, so that you don't + disturb anyone, run off to the farther beach and play. Helen, you'll see + that everything is all right, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + It was only just in time that Jeremy succeeded in strangling Hamlet's bark + into a snort, and even then they all looked round for a moment at the + sleepers in the greatest anxiety. But no, they had not been disturbed. If + only Mr. Le Page could have known what he resembled lying there with his + mouth open! But he did not know. He was doubtless dreaming of his + property. + </p> + <p> + The children crept away. Charlotte and Jeremy together. Jeremy's heart + beat thickly. At last he had the lovely creature in his charge. It was + true that he did not quite know what he was going to do with her, and that + even now, in the height of his admiration, he did wish that she would not + walk as though she were treading on red-hot ploughshares, and that she + could talk a little instead of giving little shivers of apprehension at + every step. + </p> + <p> + “I must say,” he thought to himself, “she's rather silly in some ways. + Perhaps it wouldn't be fun to see her always.” + </p> + <p> + They turned the corner round a projecting finger of rock, and a new little + beach, white and gleaming, lay in front of them. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Jeremy, “here we are. What shall we play?” + </p> + <p> + There was dead silence. + </p> + <p> + “We might play pirates,” he continued. “I'll be the pirate, and Mary can + sit on that rock until the water comes round her, and Charlotte shall hide + in that cave—” + </p> + <p> + There was still silence. Looking about him, he discovered from his + sisters' countenances that they were resolved to lend no kind of + assistance, and he then from that deduced the simple fact that his sisters + hated Charlotte and were not going to make it pleasant for her in any way + if they could help it. Oh! it was a miserable picnic! The worst that he'd + ever had. + </p> + <p> + “It's too hot to play,” said Helen loftily. “I'm going to sit down over + there.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + They moved away, their heads in the air and their legs ridiculously stiff. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy gazed at Charlotte in distress. It was very wicked of his sisters + to go off like that, but it was also very silly of Charlotte to stand + there so helplessly. He was beginning to think that perhaps he would give + the thimble to Miss Jones after all. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to go and see the pool where the little crabs are?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she answered, her upper lip trembling as though she were + going to cry. “I want to go home with Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't go home,” he said firmly, “and you can't see your mother, + because she's asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I've made my shoes dirty,” she said, looking down at her feet, “and I'm + so tired of holding my sunshade.” + </p> + <p> + “I should shut it up,” Jeremy said without any hesitation. “I think it's a + silly thing. I'm glad I'm not a girl. Do you have to take it with you + everywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if it's raining. Then I have an umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you'd better come and see the crabs,” he settled. “They're only + just over there.” + </p> + <p> + She moved along with him reluctantly, looking back continually to where + her mother ought to be. + </p> + <p> + “Are you enjoying yourself?” Jeremy asked politely. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, without any hesitation, “I want to go home.” + </p> + <p> + “She's as selfish as anything,” he thought to himself. “We're giving the + party, and she ought to have said 'Yes' even if she wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like my dog?” he asked, with another effort at light conversation. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, with a little shiver. “He's ugly.” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't ugly,” Jeremy returned indignantly. “He isn't perhaps the very + best breed, but Uncle Samuel says that that doesn't matter if he's clever. + He's better than any other dog. I love him more than anybody. He isn't + ugly!” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” cried Charlotte with a kind of wail. “Oh! I want to go home.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can't go home,” he answered her fiercely. “So you needn't think + about it.” + </p> + <p> + They came to the little pools, three of them, now clear as crystal, blue + on their surface, with green depths and red shelving rock. + </p> + <p> + “Now you sit there,” he said cheerfully. “No one will touch you. The crabs + won't get at you.” + </p> + <p> + He looked about him and noticed with surprise where he was. He was sitting + on the farther corner of the very beach where the Scarlet Admiral had + landed with his men. It was out there beyond that bend of rock that the + wonderful ship had rode, with its gold and silk, its jewelled masts and + its glittering board. Directly opposite to him was the little green path + that led up the hill, and above it the very field—Farmer Ede's + field! + </p> + <p> + For a long, long time they sat there in silence. He forgot Charlotte in + his interest over his discovery, staring about him and watching how + quickly the August afternoon was losing its heat and colour, so that + already a little cold autumnal wind was playing about the sand, the + colours were being drawn from the sky, and a grey web was slowly pulled + across the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said cheerfully at last, to Charlotte, “I'll look for the + crabs.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate crabs,” she said. “I want to go home.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't go home,” he answered furiously. “What's the good of saying + that over and over again? You aren't going yet, so it's no use saying you + are.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a horrid little boy,” she brought out with a kind of inanimate + sob. + </p> + <p> + He did not reply to that; he was still trying to behave like a gentleman. + How could he ever have liked her? Why, her hair was not so much after all. + What was hair when you come to think of it? Mary got on quite well with + hers, ugly though it was. She was stupid, stupid, stupid! She was like + someone dead. As he searched for the crabs that weren't there he felt his + temper growing. Soon he would lead her back to her mother and leave her + there and never see her again. + </p> + <p> + But this was not the climax of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + When he looked up from gazing into the pool the whole world seemed to have + changed. He was still dazzled perhaps by the reflection of the water in + his eyes, and yet it was not altogether that. It was not altogether + because the day was slipping from afternoon into evening. + </p> + <p> + The lazy ripple of the water as it slutched up the sand and then broke, + the shadows that were creeping farther and farther from rock to rock, the + green light that pushed up from the horizon into the faint blue, the grey + web of the sea, the thick gathering of the hills as they crept more + closely about the little darkening beach... it was none of these things. + </p> + <p> + He began hurriedly to tell Charlotte about the Scarlet Admiral. Even as he + told her he was himself caught into the excitement of the narration. He + forgot her; he did not see her white cheeks, her mouth open with terror, + an expression new to her, that her face had never known before, stealing + into her eyes. He told her how the Fool had seen the ship, how the Admiral + had landed, then left his men on the beach, how he had climbed the little + green path, how the young man had followed him, how they had fought, how + the young man had fallen. What was that? Jeremy jumped from his rock. “I + say, did you hear anything?” + </p> + <p> + And that was enough for Charlotte. With one scream, a scream such as she + had never uttered in her life before, sue turned, and then, running as + indeed she had never run before, she stumbled, half fell, stumbled, + finally ran as though the whole world of her ghosts was behind her. Her + screams were so piercing that they may well have startled, the villagers + of Rafiel. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy followed her, but his mind was not with her. Was he going to see + something? What was it? Who was it? + </p> + <p> + Then the awful catastrophe that finished the afternoon occurred. Turning + the corner of the rock, Charlotte missed her footing and fell straight + into a pool. Jeremy, Mary and Helen were upon her almost as she fell. They + dragged her out, but alas! what a sight was there! Instead of the + beautiful and magnificent Charlotte there was a bedraggled and dirty + little girl. + </p> + <p> + But also, instead of an inanimate and lifeless doll, there was at last a + human being, a terrified soul. + </p> + <p> + The scene that followed passes all power of description. Mrs. Le Page + wailed like a lost spirit; Mr. Le Page was so rude to Mr. Cole that it + might confidently be said that those two gentlemen would never speak to + one another again. Mrs. Cole, dismayed though she was, had some fatalistic + consolation that she had known from the first that the picnic would be a + most dreadful failure and that the worst had occurred; there was no more + to come. + </p> + <p> + Everyone was too deeply occupied to scold Jeremy. They all moved up to the + farm, Charlotte behaving most strangely, even striking her mother and + crying: “Let me go! Let me go! I don't want to be clean! I'm frightened! + I'm frightened!” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy hung behind the others. At the bottom of the little lane he stood + and waited. Was there a figure coming up through the dusk? Did someone + pass him? Why did he suddenly feel no longer afraid, but only reassured + and with the strangest certainty that the lane, the beach, the field + belonged to him now? He would come there and live when he grew up. He + would come often. Had the Scarlet Admiral passed him? If not the Scarlet + Admiral, then the other. + </p> + <p> + The sea picnic had, after all, been not quite a misfortune. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy had been made free of the land. + </p> + <p> + And Charlotte? Charlotte had been woken up, and never would go to sleep + again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. MARY + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + Mary Cole had been, all her life, that thing beloved of the sentimental + novelist, a misunderstood child. She was the only misunderstood member of + the Cole family, and she was misunderstood, as is very often the case, in + a large measure because she was so plain. Had she been good-looking as + Helen, or independent as Jeremy, she would have either attracted the world + in general, or have been indifferent as to whether she attracted it or + not. As it was, she longed to attract everyone, and, in truth, attracted + nobody. She might have found consolation in books or her own + highly-coloured imaginations had it not been for the burning passions + which she formed, at a very early age, for living people. For some years + now her life had centred round her brother Jeremy. Had the Coles been an + observant family they might, perhaps, have found some pathos in the way in + which Mary, with her pale sallow complexion, her pear-shaped face with its + dull, grey eyes, her enormous glasses, her lanky colourless hair, and her + thin, bony figure, gazed at her masculine and independent brother. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Samuel might have noticed, but he was occupied with his painting. + For the rest they were not observant. Mary was only seven years of age, + but she had the capacity for being hurt of a person of thirty. She was + hurt by everything and everybody. When somebody said: “Now, Mary, hurry + up. You're always so slow,” she was hurt. If Helen told her that she was + selfish, she was hurt, and would sit wondering whether she was selfish or + no. If Mrs. Cole said that she must brush her hair more carefully she was + hurt, and when Jeremy said anything sharp to her she was in agony. She + discovered very quickly that no one cared for her agonies. The Coles were + a plain, matter-of-fact race, and had the day's work to finish. They had + no intention of thinking too much of their children's feelings. Thirty + years ago that was not so popular as it is now. Meanwhile, her devotion to + her brother grew with every month of her life. She thought him, in all + honesty, the most miraculous of all human beings. There was more in her + worship than mere dog-like fidelity. She adored him for reasons that were + real and true; for his independence, his obstinacy, his sense of fun, his + sudden, unexpected kindnesses, his sudden helplessness, and above all, for + his bravery. He seemed to her the bravest hero in all history, and she + felt it the more because she was herself compact of every fear and terror + known to man. It was not enough for her, the ordinary panic that belongs + to all human life at every stage of its progress. She feared everything + and everybody, and only hid her fear by a persistent cover of almost + obstinate stupidity, which deceived, to some extent, her relations, but + never in any degree herself. She knew that she was plain, awkward and + hesitating, but she knew also that she was clever. She knew that she could + do everything twice as fast as Jeremy and Helen, that she was often so + impatient of their slow progress at lessons that she would beat her foot + on the ground in a kind of agonised impatience. She knew that she was + clever, and she wondered sometimes why her cleverness did not give her + more advantage. Why, for instance, should Helen's good looks be noticed at + once by every visitor and her own cleverness be unnoticed? Certainly, on + occasions, her mother would say: “And Mary? I don't think you've met Mary. + Come and say, how do you do, Mary. Mary is the clever one of the family!” + but it was always said in a deprecating, apologetic tone, which made Mary + hang her head and hate both herself and her mother. + </p> + <p> + She told herself stories of the times when Jeremy would have to depend + entirely upon the splendour of her brains for his delivery from some + horror—death, torture or disgrace. At present those times were, she + was bound to confess to herself, very distant. He depended upon no one for + anything; he could not be said to need Mary's assistance in any + particular. And with this burning desire of hers came, of course, + jealousy. There are some happy, easy natures to whom jealousy is, through + life, unknown. They are to be envied. Jealousy in a grown-up human being + is bad; in a child it is terrible. Had you told Mrs. Cole—good + mother though she was—that her daughter Mary, aged seven, suffered + tortures through jealousy, she would have assured you that it was not, in + reality, jealousy, but rather indigestion, and that a little medicine + would put it right. + </p> + <p> + Mary was quite helpless. What is a child to do if she is jealous? Other + children do not understand her, her elders laugh at her. Mary, with a + wisdom greatly beyond her years, realised very quickly that this was some + sort of horrible disease, with which she must wrestle alone. Above all, + she must never allow Jeremy to know anything about it. He was, of course, + sublimely unaware of the matter; he knew that Mary was silly sometimes, + but he attributed that to her sex; he went on his way, happily indifferent + whether anyone cared for him or no... + </p> + <p> + Mary suffered agonies when, as sometimes happened, Jeremy sat with his arm + round Helen's neck and his cheek up against hers. She suffered when, in a + mood of tempestuous affection to the whole world, he kissed Miss Jones. + She even suffered when he sat at his mother's feet whilst she read “The + Dove in the Eagle's Nest,” or “Engel the Fearless.” + </p> + <p> + Most of all, however, she suffered over Hamlet. She knew that at this + present time Hamlet was the one creature for whom Jeremy passionately + cared. He loved his mother, but with the love that custom and habit has + tamed and modified, although since Mrs. Cole's illness in the early summer + he had cared for her in a manner more demonstrative and openly + affectionate. Nevertheless, it was Hamlet who commanded Jeremy's heart, + and Mary knew it. Matters were made worse by the undoubted truth that + Hamlet did not care very much for Mary—that is, he never gave any + signs of caring, and very often walked out of the room when she came into + it. Mary could have cared for the dog as enthusiastically as Jeremy—she + was always sentimental about animals—but now she was shut out from + their alliance, and she knew that when she came up to them and began to + pat or stroke Hamlet, Jeremy was annoyed and Hamlet's skin wriggled in a + kind of retreating fashion under her fingers. Wise people will say that it + is impossible for this to be a serious trouble to a child. It was + increasingly serious to Mary. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy was not, perhaps, so tactful as he might have been. “Oh bother, + Mary!” he would say. “You've gone and waked Hamlet up!” or “Don't stroke + Hamlet that way, Mary; he hates it!” or “No, I'm going for a walk with + Hamlet; we don't want anyone!” Or Hamlet himself would suddenly bark at + her as though he hated her, or would bare his teeth and grin at her in a + mocking, sarcastic way that he had. At first, as an answer to this, she + had the ridiculous idea of herself adopting an animal, and she selected, + for this purpose, the kitchen cat, a dull, somnolent beast, whose sleek + black hair was furtive, and green, crooked eyes malignant. The cat showed + no signs of affection for Mary, nor could she herself honestly care for + it. When she brought it with her into the schoolroom, Hamlet treated it in + a scornful, sarcastic fashion that was worse than outrageous attack. The + cat was uncleanly, and was speedily banished back into the kitchen. Mary's + jealousy of Hamlet then grew apace, and with that jealousy, unfortunately, + her secret appreciation of his splendours. She could not help admitting to + herself that he was the most attractive dog in the world. She would look + at him from under her spectacles when she was supposed to be reading and + watch him as he rolled, kicking his legs in the air, or lay stretched out, + his black wet nose against his paws, his eyes gleaming, his gaze fixed + like the point of a dagger raised to strike, upon some trophy, or enemy, + or spoil, or sat, solemn and pompous, like the Lord Mayor holding a + meeting, as Jeremy said, up against his master's leg, square and solid as + though he were cut out of wood, his peaked beard supercilious, his very + ears at a patronising angle; or, as Mary loved best of all to see him, + when he was simply childish, playing, as though he was still a new-found + puppy, with pieces of paper or balls of string, rolling and choking, + growling, purring, staggering and tumbling. At such times, again and + again, her impulse would be to go forward and applaud him, and then, the + instinct that she would be checked by Jeremy stayed her. + </p> + <p> + She knew very well that Jeremy realised nothing of this. Jeremy was not + given to the consideration of other people's motives—his own + independence saved him from anxiety about others. He had the English + characteristic of fancying that others must like and dislike as he himself + liked and disliked. Of sentiment he had no knowledge whatever. + </p> + <p> + As this year grew towards summer Mary had the feeling that Jeremy was + slipping away from her. She did not know what had happened to him. In the + old days he had asked her opinion about many things; he had scorned to + enjoy the long stories that she had told him—at any rate, he had + listened to them very politely—and he had asked her to suggest games + or to play with his toys. Now as the summer drew near, he did none of + these things. He was frankly impatient with her stories, never asked her + advice about anything, and never played with her. Was he growing very + conceited? Was it because he was going to school, and thought himself too + old for his sisters? No, he did not seem to be conceited—he had + always been proud, but never conceited. It was rather as though he had + lately had thoughts of his own, almost against his will, and that these + had shut him off from the people round him. + </p> + <p> + Then, when their mother was so ill and Barbara made her startling + appearance Jeremy kept more to himself. He never talked about his mother's + illness, as did the others, and yet Mary knew that he had been more deeply + concerned than any of them. She had been miserable, of course, but to + Jeremy it had been as though he had been led into a new world altogether; + Helen and she were still in their old places, and Jeremy had left them. + </p> + <p> + At last just before they all moved to Cow Farm Mary made a silly scene. + She had not intended to make a scene. Scenes seemed to come upon her, like + evil birds, straight out of the air, to seize her before she knew where + she was, to envelop and carry her up with them; at last, when all the + mischief was done, to set her on her feet again, battered, torn and + bitterly ashamed. One evening she was sitting deep in “Charlotte Mary,” + and Hamlet, bunched up against his master's leg, stared at her. She had + long ago told herself that it was ridiculous to mind what Hamlet did, that + he was not looking at her, and, in any case, he was only a dog—and + so on. + </p> + <p> + But to-night she was tired, and had read so long that her head ached—Hamlet + was laughing at her, his eyes stared through his hair at her, cynically, + superciliously, contemptuously. His lip curled and his beard bristled. + Moved by a sudden wild impulse she picked up “The Chaplet of Pearls” and + threw it at him. It hit him (not very severely), and he gave the sharp, + melodramatic howl that he always used when it was his dignity rather than + his body that was hurt. Jeremy looked up, saw what had happened, and a + fine scene followed. Mary had hysterics, stamped and screamed and howled. + Jeremy, his face white, stood and said nothing, but looked as though he + hated her, which at that moment he undoubtedly did. It was that look which + more than anything else in the world she dreaded. + </p> + <p> + She made herself sick with crying; then apologised with an abjection that + only irritated him the more; finally remembered the smallest details of + the affair long after he had forgotten all about it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + During the first weeks at Cow Farm Mary was happy. She had then many + especial private joys, such as climbing into one of the old apple trees + behind the house and reading there, safe from the world, or inventing for + herself wonderful adventures out of the dark glooms and sunlit spaces of + the orchard, or creeping about the lofts and barns as though they were + full of the most desperate dangers and hazards that she alone had the + pluck and intelligence to overcome. Then Mrs. Monk was kind to her, and + listened to her imaginative chatter with a most marvellous patience. Mary + did not know that, after these narrations, she would shake her head and + say to her husband: “Not long for this world, I'm thinking, poor + worm...not long for this world.” + </p> + <p> + Then, at first Jeremy was kind and considerate. He was so happy that he + did not mind what anyone did, and he would listen to Mary's stories quite + in the old way, whistling to himself, not thinking about her at all + perhaps, really, but very patient. After the first fortnight he slipped + away from her again—and now more than ever before. He went off for + long walks with Hamlet, refusing to take her with them; he answered her + questions so vaguely that she could see that he paid her no attention at + all; he turned upon her and rent her if she complained. And it was all, + she was sure, that horrible dog. Jeremy was always with Hamlet now. The + free life that the farm gave them, no lessons, no set hours, no care for + appearances, left them to choose their own ways, and so developed their + individualities. Helen was now more and more with her elders, was becoming + that invaluable thing, “a great help to her mother,” and even, to her own + inexhaustible pride, paid two calls with Mrs. Cole on the wives of + neighbouring farmers. Then, Barbara absorbed more than ever of Helen's + attention, and Mary was not allowed to share in these rites and services + because “she always made Barbara cry.” + </p> + <p> + She was, therefore, very much alone, and felt all her injuries twice as + deeply as she had felt them before. Hamlet began to be an obsession with + her. She had always had a habit of talking to herself, and now she could + be heard telling herself that if it were not for the dog, Jeremy would + always be with her, would play with her, walk with her, laugh with her as + he used to do. She acquired now an awkward habit of gazing at him with + passionate intensity. He would raise his eyes and find the great + moon-faced spectacles fixed upon him with a beseeching, reproachful glare + in the light of them. This would irritate him intensely. He would say: + </p> + <p> + “You'll know me next time, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + She would blush crimson and then, with trembling mouth, answer: + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't looking.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you were.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you were—staring as though I were an Indian or Chinaman. + If my face is dirty, say so.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't dirty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—” + </p> + <p> + “You're always so cross.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not cross—only you're so silly—” + </p> + <p> + “You usen't always to say I was silly. Now you always do—every + minute.” + </p> + <p> + “So you are.” Then as he saw the tears coming he would get up and go away. + He didn't mean to be unkind to her; he was fond of her—but he hated + scenes. + </p> + <p> + “Mary's always howling about something now,” he confided to Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Is she?” Helen answered with indifference. “Mary's such a baby.” + </p> + <p> + So Mary began to attribute everything to the dog. It seemed to her then + that she met the animal everywhere. Cow Farm was a rambling building, with + dark, uneven stairs, low-ceilinged rooms, queer, odd corners, and sudden + unexpected doors. It seemed to Mary as though in this place there were two + Hamlets. When, in the evening she went to her room, hurrying through the + passages for fear of what she might see, stumbling over the uneven boards, + sniffling the mice and straw under the smell of her tallow candle, + suddenly out of nowhere at all Hamlet would appear scurrying along, like + the White Rabbit, intent on serious business. + </p> + <p> + He came so softly and with so sudden a flurry and scatter when she did + hear him that her heart would beat for minutes afterwards, and she would + not dare that night to search, as she usually did, for burglars under her + bed, but would lie, quaking, hot and staring, unable to sleep. When at + last dreams came they would be haunted by a monstrous dog, all hair and + eyes, who, with padding feet, would track her round and round a room from + which there was no escape. Hamlet, being one of the wisest of dogs, very + quickly discovered that Mary hated him. He was not a sentimental dog, and + he did not devote his time to inventing ways in which he might placate his + enemy, he simply avoided her. But he could not hinder a certain cynical + and ironic pleasure that he had of, so to speak, flaunting his master in + her face. He clung to Jeremy more resolutely than ever, would jump up at + him, lick his hands and tumble about in front of him whenever Mary was + there, and then suddenly, very straight and very grave, would stare at her + as though he were the most devout and obedient dog in the place. Indeed, + he bore her no malice; he could afford to disregard the Marys of this + world, and of women in general he had a poor opinion. But he loved to + tease, and Mary was an easy prey. He had his fun with her. + </p> + <p> + After the affair of the sea-picnic, Jeremy was for some time under a + cloud. It was felt that he was getting too big for anyone to manage. It + was not that he was wicked, not that he kept bad company with the boys on + the farm, or was dishonest, or told lies, or stole things—no, he + gave no one that kind of anxiety—but that he was developing quite + unmistakably a will of his own, and had a remarkable way of doing what he + wanted without being actually disobedient, which was very puzzling to his + elders. Being a little in disgrace he went off more than ever by himself, + always appearing again at the appointed time, but telling no one where he + had been or what he had been doing. His father had no influence over him + at all, whilst Uncle Samuel could make him do whatever he wanted—and + this, as Aunt Amy said, “was really a pity.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a good thing he's going to school in September,” sighed his mother. + “He's getting out of women's hands.” + </p> + <p> + Mary longed with feverish longing to share in his adventures. If only he + would tell her what he did on these walks of his. But no, only Hamlet + knew. Perhaps, if he did not go with the dog he would go with her. When + this idea crept into her brain she seized it and clutched it. That was all + he wanted—a companion! Were Hamlet not there he would take her. Were + Hamlet not there... She began to brood over this. She wandered... She + considered. She shuddered at her own wickedness; she tried to drive the + thoughts from her head, but they kept coming. + </p> + <p> + After all, no one need know. For a day or two Jeremy would be sorry and + then he would forget. She knew the man who went round selling dogs—selling + dogs and buying them. + </p> + <p> + She shuddered at her wickedness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + The last days of August came, and with them the last week of the holiday. + Already there was a scent of autumn in the air, leaves were turning gold + and red, and the evenings came cool and sudden, upon the hot summer + afternoons. Mary was not very well; she had caught a cold somewhere, and + existed in the irritating condition of going out one day and being held + indoors the next. This upset her temper, and at night she had nightmares, + in which she saw clouds of smoke crawling in at her window, snakes on the + floor, and crimson flames darting at her from the ceiling. It was because + she was in an abnormal condition of health that the idea of doing + something with Hamlet had gained such a hold upon her. She considered the + matter from every point of view. She did not want to be cruel to the dog; + she supposed that after a week or two he would be quite happy with his new + master, and, in any case, he had strolled in so casually upon the Cole + family that he was accustomed to a wandering life. + </p> + <p> + She did not intend that anyone should know. It was to be a deep secret all + of her own. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy was going to school in September, and before then she must make him + friendly to her again. She saw stretching in front of her all the lonely + autumn without him and her own memories of the miserable summer to make + her wretched. She was an extremely sentimental little girl. + </p> + <p> + As always happens when one is meditating with a placated conscience a + wicked deed, the opportunity was suddenly offered to Mary of achieving her + purpose. One morning Jeremy, after refusing to listen to one of Mary's + long romances, lost his temper. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stop,” he said. “You bother and bother and bother. Aunt Amy says + you nearly make her mad.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what Aunt Amy says,” Mary on the edge of tears replied. + </p> + <p> + “Hamlet and I are going out. And I'm sick of your silly old stories.” Then + he suddenly stopped and gazed at Mary, who was beginning, as usual, to + weep. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mary, what's been the matter with you lately? You're always + crying now or something. And you look at me as though I'd done something + dreadful. I haven't done anything.” + </p> + <p> + “I—never—said you—had,” Mary gulped out. He rubbed his + nose in a way that he had when he was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “If it's anything I do, tell me. It's so silly always crying. The holidays + will be over soon, and you've done nothing but cry.” + </p> + <p> + “You're—never—with me—now,” Mary sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've been busy.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't. You can't be busy all—by yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you can.” He was getting impatient. “Anyway, you might let + Hamlet and me alone. You're always bothering one of us.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not.” She choked an enormous sob and burst out with: “It's always + Hamlet now. I wish he'd never—come. It was much nicer before.” + </p> + <p> + Then he lost his temper. “Oh, you're a baby! I'm sick of you and your + nonsense,” he cried, and stamped off. + </p> + <p> + In Mary's red-rimmed eyes, as she watched him go, determination grew. + </p> + <p> + It happened that upon the afternoon of that same day Miss Jones announced + that she would take Mary for a walk; then, just as they passed through the + farm gates, Hamlet, rushing out, joined them. He did not often honour them + with his company, despising women most especially when they walked, but + to-day his master was busy digging for worms in the vegetable garden, and, + after a quarter of an hour's contemplation of this fascinating occupation, + he had wandered off in search of a livelier game. He decided to join Miss + Jones; he could do what he pleased, he could amuse himself with her + ineffectual attempts to keep him in order, and he could irritate Mary; so + he danced along, with his tail in the air, barking at imaginary rats and + poking his nose into hedges. + </p> + <p> + Mary, with a sudden tightened clutching of the heart, realised that her + hour was upon her. She felt so wicked as she realised this that she + wondered that the ground didn't open up and swallow her, as it had done + with those unfortunate people in the Bible. But no, the world was calm. + Little white milky clouds raced in lines and circles across the sky, and + once and again a leaf floated from a tree, hung for a moment suspended, + and then turned slowly to the ground. The hedges were a dark black-green, + high and thick above the dusty road; there had been no rain for weeks. + Truly a stable world. Mary, glaring at Fate, wondered how it could be so. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones, who was happy and optimistic to-day, talked in a tenderly + reminiscent tone of her youth. This vein of reminiscence Mary, on her + normal day, loved. To-day she did not hear a word that Miss Jones said. + </p> + <p> + “I remember my mother saying so well to my dear brother: 'Do what you + like, my boy. I trust you.' And indeed Alfred was to be trusted if ever a + boy was. It is a remarkable thing, but I cannot remember a single occasion + of dishonesty on Alfred's part. 'A white lie,' he would often say, 'is a + lie, and a lie is a sin—white or black, always a sin'; and I + remember that he would often put mother to a serious inconvenience by his + telling callers that she was in when she had wished it to be said that she + was not at home. He felt it his serious duty, and so he told Mother. + 'Don't ask me to tell a lie, Mother,' I remember his saying. 'I cannot do + it.'” + </p> + <p> + “Like George Washington,” said Mary, suddenly catching the last words of + Miss Jones's sentence. + </p> + <p> + “He was like many famous characters in history, I used to think. Once I + remember reading about Oliver Cromwell... 'Where is that dog? Hamlet! + Hamlet! Perhaps he's gone after the sheep. Ah! there he is! Hamlet, you + naughty dog!'” + </p> + <p> + They were approaching one of their favourite pieces of country—Mellot + Wood. Here, on the wood's edge, the ground broke away, running down in a + field of corn to a little green valley with clustered trees that showed + only their heads, so thickly embedded were they, and beyond the valley the + sea. The sea looked quite close here, although it was in reality four + miles distant. Never was such a place as this view for light and shadow. + The clouds raced like the black wings of enormous birds across the light + green valley, and the red-gold of the cornfield was tossed into the haze + and swept like a golden shadow across the earth, bending back again when + the breeze had died. Behind Mellot Wood was Mellot Farm, an old + eighteenth-century house about which there was a fine tragic story with a + murder and a ghost in it, and this, of course, gave Mellot Wood an + additional charm. When they arrived at the outskirts of Mellot Wood Mary + looked about her. It was here, on the edge of the Rafiel Road that skirted + the wood, that she had once seen the dog-man eating his luncheon out of a + red pocket-handkerchief. There was no sign of him to-day. All was silent + and still. Only the little wood uttered little sighs of content beneath + the flying clouds. Hamlet, tired with his racing after imaginary rabbits, + walked quietly along by Mary's side. What was she to do? She had once + again the desperate feeling that something stronger than she had swept + down upon her and was forcing her to do this thing. She seemed to have no + will of her own, but to be watching some other commit an act whose + dangerous wickedness froze her heart. How could she? But she must. Someone + was doing it for her. + </p> + <p> + And in very truth it seemed so. Miss Jones said that now they were here + she might as well call upon Miss Andrews, the sister of the Mellot farmer. + Miss Andrews had promised her some ducks' eggs. They pushed open the farm + gate, passed across the yard and knocked on the house door. Near Mary was + a large barn with a heavy door, now ajar. Hamlet sat gazing pensively at a + flock of geese, his tongue out, panting contentedly. + </p> + <p> + “Wait here one minute, Mary,” said Miss Jones. “I won't stay.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones disappeared. Mary, still under the strange sense that it was + not she, but another, who did these things, moved back to the barn, + calling softly to Hamlet. He followed her, sniffing a rat somewhere. Very + quickly she pulled back the door; he, still investigating his rat, + followed into the dark excitements of the barn. With a quick movement she + bent down, slipped off his collar, which she hid in her dress, then shut + him in. She knew that for a moment or two he would still be pursuing his + rat, and she saw, with guilty relief, Miss Jones come out to her just as + she had finished her evil deed. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Andrews is out,” said Miss Jones. “They are all away at Liskane + Fair.” + </p> + <p> + They left the farm and walked down the road. Hamlet had not begun his cry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + Miss Jones was pleased. “Such a nice servant,” she said. “One of the old + kind. She had been with the family fifty years, she told me, and had + nursed Mr. Andrews on her knee. Fancy! Such a large fat man as he is now. + Too much beer, I suppose. I suppose they get so thirsty with all the straw + and hay about. Yes, a really nice woman. She told me that there was no + place in Glebeshire to touch them for cream. I dare say they're right. + After all, you never can tell. I remember at home...” + </p> + <p> + She broke off then and cried: “Where's Hamlet?” + </p> + <p> + Mary, wickeder than ever, stared through her spectacles down the road. “I + don't know, Miss Jones,” she said. They had left the wood and the farm, + and there was nothing to be seen but the long white ribbon of road hemmed + in by the high hedges. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he stayed behind at the farm,” said Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + Then Mary told her worst lie. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Miss Jones. He ran past us just now. Didn't you see him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't. He's gone on ahead, I suppose. He runs home sometimes. + Naughty dog! We shall catch him up.” + </p> + <p> + But of course they did not. They passed through the gates of Cow Farm and + still nothing of Hamlet was to be seen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear! Oh dear!” said Miss Jones. “I do hope that he's arrived. + Whatever will Jeremy say if anything has gone wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Mary was breathing hard now, as though she had been running a desperate + race. She would at this moment have given all that she possessed, or all + that she was ever likely to possess, to recall her deed. If she could have + seen Hamlet rushing down the road towards her she would have cried with + relief; there seemed now to be suddenly removed from her that outside + agency that had forced her to do this thing; now, having compelled her, it + had withdrawn and left her to carry the consequences. Strangely confused + in her sentimental soul was her terror of Jeremy's wrath and her own + picture of the wretched Hamlet barking his heart out, frightened, thirsty, + and lonely. Her teeth began to chatter; she clenched her hands together. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jones went across the courtyard, calling: + </p> + <p> + “Hamlet! Hamlet!” + </p> + <p> + The family was collected, having just sat down to tea, so that the + announcement received its full measure of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Has Hamlet come back? We thought he was ahead of us.” + </p> + <p> + A chair had tumbled over. Jeremy had run round the table to Miss Jones. + </p> + <p> + “What's that? Hamlet? Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “We thought he must be ahead of us. He ran past us down the road, and we + thought—” + </p> + <p> + They thought! Silly women! Jeremy, as though he were challenging a god, + stood up against Miss Jones, hurling questions at her. Where had they + been? What road had they taken? Had they gone into the wood? Whereabouts + had he run past them? + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Miss Jones to this last. “I didn't see him. Mary + did.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy turned upon Mary. “Where was it you saw him?” + </p> + <p> + She couldn't speak. Her tongue wouldn't move, her lips wouldn't open; she + could but waggle her head like an idiot. She saw nothing but his face. It + was a desperate face. She knew so much better than all the others what the + thought of losing Hamlet was to him. It was part of the harshness of her + fate that she should understand him so much better than the others did. + </p> + <p> + But she herself had not realised how hardly he would take it. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't—I couldn't—” + </p> + <p> + “There's the dog-man,” he stammered. “He'll have stolen him.” Then he was + off out of the room in an instant. + </p> + <p> + And that was more than Mary could hear. She realised, even as she followed + him, that she was giving her whole case away, that she was now, as always, + weak when she should be strong, soft when she should be hard, good when + she should be wicked, wicked when she should be good. She could not help + herself. With trembling limbs and a heart that seemed to be hammering her + body into pieces she followed him out. She found him in the hall, tugging + at his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” she said weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Going?” he answered fiercely. “Where do you think?” He glared at her. + “Just like you.” He broke off, suddenly appealing to her. “Mary, CAN'T you + remember? It will be getting dark soon, and if we have to wait until + to-morrow the dog-man will have got him. At any rate, he had his collar—” + </p> + <p> + Then Mary broke out. She burst into sobs, pushed her hand into her dress, + and held out the collar to him. + </p> + <p> + “There it is! There it is!” she said hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “You've got it?” He stared at her, suspicion slowly coming to him. “But + how—? What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him wild-eyed, the tears making dirty lines on her face, + her hand out towards him. + </p> + <p> + “I took it off. I shut Hamlet into the barn at Mellot Farm. I wanted him + to be lost. I didn't want you to have him. I hated him—always being + with you, and me never.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy moved back, and at the sudden look in his eyes her sobbing ceased, + she caught her breath and stared at him with a silly fixed stare as a + rabbit quivers before a snake. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy said in his ordinary voice: + </p> + <p> + “You shut Hamlet up? You didn't want him to be found?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded her head several times as though now she must convince him + quickly of this— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, yes. I did... I know I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it—” + </p> + <p> + He clutched her arm, and then shook her with a sudden wave of fierce + physical anger that was utterly unlike him, and, therefore, the more + terrifying. + </p> + <p> + “You wicked, wicked—You beast, Mary!” + </p> + <p> + She could only sob, her head hanging down. He let her go. + </p> + <p> + “What barn was it?” + </p> + <p> + She described the place. + </p> + <p> + He gave her another look of contempt and then rushed off, running across + the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + There was still no one in the hall; she could go up to her room without + the fear of being disturbed. She found the room, all white and black now + with the gathering dusk. Beyond the window the evening breeze was rustling + in the dark trees of the garden and the boom of the sea could be heard + faintly. Mary sat, where she always sat when she was unhappy, inside the + wardrobe with her head amongst the clothes. They in some way comforted + her; she was not so lonely with them, nor did she feel so strongly the + empty distances of the long room, the white light of the window-frames, + nor the mysterious secrecy of the high elms knocking their heads together + in the garden outside. + </p> + <p> + She had a fit of hysterical crying, biting the hanging clothes between her + teeth, feeling suddenly sick and tired and exhausted, with flaming eyes + and a dry, parched throat. Why had she ever done such a thing, she loving + Jeremy as she did? Would he ever forgive her? No, never; she saw that in + his face. Perhaps he would—if he found Hamlet quickly and came back. + Perhaps Hamlet never would be found. Then Jeremy's heart would be broken. + </p> + <p> + She slept from utter exhaustion, and was so found, when the room was quite + dark and only shadows moved in it, by her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mary!” said Mrs. Cole. “What are you doing here? We couldn't think + where you were. And where's Jeremy?” + </p> + <p> + “Jeremy!” She started up, remembering everything. + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't he come back? Oh, he's lost and he'll be killed, and it will be + all my fault!” She burst into another fit of wild hysterical crying. + </p> + <p> + Her mother took her arm. “Mary, explain—What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + Mary explained, her teeth chattering, her head aching so that she could + not see. + </p> + <p> + “And you shut him up like that? Whatever—Oh, Mary, you wicked girl! + And Jeremy—He's been away two hours now—” + </p> + <p> + She turned off, leaving Mary alone in the black room. + </p> + <p> + Mary was left to every terror that can beset a lonely, hysterical child—terror + of Jeremy's fate, terror of Hamlet's loss, terror of her own crimes, above + all, terror of the lonely room, the waving elms and the gathering dark. + She could not move; she could not even close the door of the wardrobe, + into whose shelter she had again crept. She stared at the white sheet of + the window, with its black bars like railings and its ghostly hinting of a + moon that would soon be up above the trees. Every noise frightened her, + the working of the “separator” in a distant part of the farm, the + whistling of some farm-hand out in the yard, the voice of some boy, + “coo-ee”-ing faintly, the lingering echo of the vanished day—all + these seemed to accuse her, to point fingers at her, to warn her of some + awful impending punishment. “Ah! you're the little girl,” they seemed to + say, “who lost Jeremy's dog and broke Jeremy's heart.” She was sure that + someone was beneath her bed. That old terror haunted her with an almost + humorous persistency every night before she went to sleep, but to-night + there was a ghastly certainty and imminence about it that froze her blood. + She crouched up against the hanging skirts, gazing at the black line + between the floor and the white sheets, expecting at every second to see a + protruding black mask, bloodshot eyes, a coarse hand. The memory of the + burglary that they had had in the spring came upon her with redoubled + force. Ah! surely, surely someone was there! She heard a movement, a + scraping of a boot upon the floor, the thick hurried breathing of some + desperate villain... + </p> + <p> + Then these fears gave way to something worse than them all, the certainty + that Jeremy was dead. Ridiculous pictures passed before her, of Jeremy + hanging from a tree, Jeremy lying frozen in the wood, the faithful Hamlet + dead at his side, Jeremy stung by an adder and succumbing to his horrible + tortures, Jeremy surrounded by violent men, who snatched Hamlet from him, + beat him on the head and left him for dead on the ground. + </p> + <p> + She passed what seemed to her hours of torture under these horrible + imaginings, tired out, almost out of her mind with the hysteria of her + loneliness, her imagination and her conscience; she passed into a kind of + apathy of unhappiness, thinking now only of Jeremy, longing for him, + beseeching him to come back, telling the empty moonlit room that she never + meant it; that she would do everything he wanted if only he came back to + her; that she was a wicked girl; that she would never be wicked again.... + And she took her punishment alone. + </p> + <p> + After endless ages of darkness and terror and misery she heard voices—then + HIS voice! She jumped out of the wardrobe and listened. Yes; it WAS his + voice. She pushed back the door, crept down the passage, and came suddenly + upon a little group, with Jeremy in its midst, crowded together at the top + of the stairs. Jeremy was wrapped up in his father's heavy coat, and + looked very small and impish as he peered from out of it. He was greatly + excited, his eyes shining, his mouth smiling, his cheeks flushed. + </p> + <p> + His audience consisted of Helen, Mrs. Cole, Miss Jones, and Aunt Amy. He + described to them how he had run along the road “for miles and miles and + miles,” how at last he had found the farm, had rung the bell, and + inquired, and discovered Hamlet licking up sugary tea in the farm kitchen; + there had then been a rapturous meeting, and he had boldly declared that + he could find his way home again without aid. “They wanted me to be driven + home in their trap, but I wasn't going to have that. They'd been at the + fair all day, and didn't want to go out again. I could see that.” So he + and Hamlet started gaily on their walk home, and then, in some way or + another, he took the wrong turn, and suddenly they were in Mellot Wood. + “It was dark as anything, you know, although there was going to be a moon. + We couldn't see a thing, and then I got loster and loster. At last we just + sat under a tree. There was nothing more to do!” Then, apparently, Jeremy + had slept, and had, finally, been found in the proper romantic manner by + Jim and his father. + </p> + <p> + “Well, all's well that ends well,” said Aunt Amy, with a sniff. In spite + of that momentary softness over the defeat of the Dean's Ernest she liked + her young nephew no better than of old. She had desired that he should be + punished for this, but as she looked at the melting eyes of Mrs. Cole and + Miss Jones she had very little hope. + </p> + <p> + Mary was forgotten; no one noticed her. + </p> + <p> + “Bed,” said Mrs. Cole. + </p> + <p> + “Really, what a terrible affair,” said Miss Jones. “And I can't help + feeling that it was my fault.” + </p> + <p> + “What Mary—” began Mrs. Cole. And then she stopped. She had perhaps + some sense that Mary had already received sufficient punishment. + </p> + <p> + Mary waited, standing against the passage wall. Jeremy, who had not seen + her, vanished into his room. She waited, then plucking up all her courage + with the desperate suffocating sense of a prisoner laying himself beneath + the guillotine, she knocked timidly on his door. + </p> + <p> + He said: “Come in,” and entering, she saw him, in his braces, standing on + a chair trying to put the picture entitled “Daddy's Christmas” straight + upon its nail. The sight of this familiar task—the picture would + never hang straight, although every day Jeremy, who, strangely enough, had + an eye to such matters, tried to correct it—cheered her a little. + </p> + <p> + “Won't it go straight?” she said feebly. + </p> + <p> + “No, it won't,” he began, and then, suddenly realising the whole position, + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, Jeremy,” she muttered, hanging her head down. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right,” he answered, turning away from her and pulling at + the string. “It was a beastly thing to do all the same,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Will you forgive me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there isn't any forgiveness about it. Girls are queer, I suppose. I + don't understand them myself. There, that's better... I say, it was simply + beastly under that tree—” + </p> + <p> + “Was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Beastly! There was something howling somewhere—a cat or something.” + </p> + <p> + “You do forgive me, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes... I say, is that right now? Oh, it won't stay there. It's the + wall or something.” + </p> + <p> + He came down from the chair yawning. + </p> + <p> + “Jim's nice,” he confided to her. “He's going to take me ratting one day!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going,” Mary said again, and waited. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy coloured, looked as though he would say something, then, in + silence, presented a very grimy cheek. “Good-night,” he said, with an air + of intense relief. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” she said, kissing him. + </p> + <p> + She closed the door behind her. She knew that the worst had happened. He + had passed away, utterly beyond her company, her world, her interests. She + crept along to her room, and there, with a determination and a strength + rare in a child so young and so undisciplined, faced her loneliness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE MERRY-GO-ROUND + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + The holidays were over. The Coles were once more back in Polchester, and + the most exciting period of Jeremy's life had begun. So at any rate he + felt it. It might be that in later years there would be new exciting + events, lion-hunting, for instance, or a war, or the tracking of niggers + in the heart of Africa—he would be ready for them when they came—but + these last weeks before his first departure for school offered him the + prospect of the first real independence of his life. There could never be + anything quite like that again. Nevertheless, school seemed still a long + way distant. It was only his manliness that he was realising and a certain + impatience and restlessness that underlay everything that he did. + </p> + <p> + September and October are often very lovely months in Polchester; autumn + seems to come there with a greater warmth and richness than it does + elsewhere. Along all the reaches of the Pol, right down to the sea, the + leaves of the woods hung with a riotous magnificence that is glorious in + its recklessness. The waters of that silent river are so still, so glassy, + that the banks of gold and flaming red are reflected in all their richest + colour down into the very heart of the stream, and it is only when a fish + jumps or a twig falls from the overhanging trees that the mirror is broken + and the colours flash into ripples and shadows of white and grey. The + utter silence of all this world makes the Cathedral town sleepy, sluggish, + forgotten of all men. As the autumn comes it seems to drowse away into + winter to the tune of its Cathedral bells, to the scent of its burning + leaves and the soft steps of its Canons and clergy. There is every autumn + here a clerical conference, and long before the appointed week begins, and + long after it is lawfully concluded, clergymen, strange clergymen with + soft black hats, take the town for their own, gaze into Martin the + pastry-cook's, sit in the dusk of the Cathedral listening to the organ; + walk, their heads in air, their arms folded behind their backs, straight + up Orange Street as though they were scaling Heaven itself; stop little + children, pat their heads, and give them pennies; stand outside Poole's + bookshop and delve in the 2d. box for thumb-marked sermons; stand gazing + in learned fashion at the great West Door, investigating the saints and + apostles portrayed thereon; hurry in their best hats and coats along the + Close to some ladies' tea-party, or pass with solemn and anxious mien into + the palace of the Bishop himself. + </p> + <p> + All these things belong to autumn in Polchester, as Jeremy very well knew, + but the event that marks the true beginning of the season, the only way by + which you may surely know that summer is over and autumn is come is + Pauper's Fair. + </p> + <p> + This famous fair has been, from time immemorial, a noted event in + Glebeshire life. Even now, when fairs have yielded to cinematographs as + attractions for the people, Pauper's Fair gives its annual excitement. + Thirty years ago it was the greatest event of the year in Polchester. All + our fine people, of course, disliked it extremely. It disturbed the town + for days, the town rocked in the arms of crowds of drunken sailors, the + town gave shelter to gipsies and rogues and scoundrels, the town, the + decent, amiable, happy town actually for a week or so seemed to invite the + world of the blazing fire and the dancing clown. No wonder that our fine + people shuddered. Only the other day—I speak now of these modern + times—the Bishop tried to stop the whole business. He wrote to the + Glebeshire Morning News, urging that Pauper's Fair, in these days of + enlightenment and culture, cannot but be regretted by all those who have + the healthy progress of our dear country at heart. Well, you would be + amazed at the storm that his protest raised. People wrote from all over + the County, and there were ultimately letters from patriotic Glebeshire + citizens in New Zealand and South Africa. And in Polchester itself! + Everyone—even those who had shuddered most at the fair's iniquities—was + indignant. Give up the fair! One of the few signs left of that jolly Old + England whose sentiment is cherished by us, whose fragments nevertheless + we so readily stamp upon. No, the fair must remain and will remain, I have + no doubt, until the very end of our national chapter. + </p> + <p> + Nowadays it has shed, very largely, I am afraid, the character that it + gloriously maintained thirty years ago. Then it was really an invasion by + the seafaring element of the County. All the little country ports and + harbours poured out their fishermen and sailors, who came walking, + driving, singing, laughing, swearing; they filled the streets, and went + peering, like the wildest of ancient Picts, into the mysterious beauties + of the Cathedral, and late at night, when the town should have slept, arm + in arm they went roaring past the dark windows, singing their songs, + stamping their feet, and every once and again ringing a decent door-bell + for their amusement. It was very seldom that any harm was done. Once a + serious fire broke out amongst the old wooden houses down on the river, + and some of them were burnt to the ground, a fate that no one deplored; + once a sailor was murdered in a drunken squabble at “The Dog and + Pilchard,” the wildest of the riverside hostelries; and once a Canon was + caught and stripped and ducked in the waters of the Pol by a mob who + resented his gentle appeals that they should try to prefer lemonade to + gin; but these were the only three catastrophes in all the history of the + fair. + </p> + <p> + During the fair week the town sniffed of the sea—of lobster and + seaweed and tar and brine—and all the tales of the sea that have + ever been told by man were told during these days in Polchester. + </p> + <p> + The decent people kept their doors locked, their children at home, and + their valuables in the family safe. No upper class child in Polchester so + much as saw the outside of a gipsy van. The Dean's Ernest was accustomed + to boast that he had once been given a ride by a gipsy on a donkey, when + his nurse was not looking, but no one credited the story, and the details + with which he supported it were feeble and unconvincing. The Polchester + children in general were told that “they would be stolen by the gipsies if + they weren't careful,” and, although some of them in extreme moments of + rebellion and depression felt that the life of adventure thus offered to + them, might, after all, be more agreeable than the dreary realism of their + natural days, the warning may be said to have been effective. + </p> + <p> + No family in Polchester was guarded more carefully in this matter of the + Pauper's Fair than the Cole family. Mr. Cole had an absolute horror of the + fair. Sailors and gipsies were to him the sign and seal of utter + damnation, and although he tried, as a Christian clergyman, to believe + that they deserved pity because of the disadvantages under which they had + from the first laboured, he confessed to his intimate friends that he saw + very little hope for them either in this world or the next. Jeremy, Helen + and Mary were, during Fair Week, kept severely within doors; their + exercise had to be taken in the Cole garden, and the farthest that they + poked their noses into the town was their visit to St. John's on Sunday + morning. Except on one famous occasion. The Fair Week of Jeremy's fifth + year saw him writhing under a terrible attack of toothache, which became, + after two agonised nights, such a torment and distress to the whole + household that he had to be conveyed to the house of Mr. Pilter, who had + his torture-chamber at No. 3 Market Square. It is true that Jeremy was + conveyed thither in a cab, and that his pain and his darkened windows + prevented him from seeing very much of the gay world; nevertheless, in + spite of the Jampot, who guarded him like a dragon, he caught a glimpse of + flags, a gleaming brass band and a Punch and Judy show, and he heard the + trumpets and the drum, and the shouts of excited little boys, and the + blowing of the Punch and Judy pipes, and he smelt roasting chestnuts, bad + tobacco, and beer and gin. He returned, young as he was, and reduced to a + corpse-like condition by the rough but kindly intentioned services of Mr. + Pilter, with the picture of a hysterical, abandoned world clearly + imprinted upon his brain. + </p> + <p> + “I want to go,” he said to the Jampot. + </p> + <p> + “You can't,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I will when I'm six,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You won't,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I will when I'm seven,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You won't,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I will when I'm eight,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, give over, do, Master Jeremy,” said she. And now he was eight, very + nearly nine, and going to school in a fortnight. There seemed to be a + touch of destiny about his prophecy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + He had no intention of disobedience. Had he been once definitely told by + someone in authority that he was not to go to the fair he would not have + dreamt of going. He had no intention of disobedience—but he had + returned from the Cow Farm holiday in a strange condition of mind. + </p> + <p> + He had found there this summer more freedom than he had been ever allowed + in his life before, and it had been freedom that had come, not so much + from any change of rules, but rather from his own attitude to the family—simply + he had wanted to do certain things, and he had done them and the family + had stood aside. He began to be aware that he had only to push and things + gave way—a dangerous knowledge, and its coming marks a period in + one's life. + </p> + <p> + He seemed, too, during this summer, to have left his sisters definitely + behind him and to stand much more alone than he had done before. The only + person in his world whom he felt that he would like to know better was + Uncle Samuel, and that argued, on his part, a certain tendency towards + rebellion and individuality. He was no longer rude to Aunt 'Amy, although + he hated her just as he had always done. She did not seem any longer a + question that mattered. His attitude to his whole family now was + independent. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he was, in reality, now beginning to live his independent life. He + was perhaps very young to be sent off to school by himself, although in + those days for a boy of eight to be plunged without any help but a + friendly word of warning into the stormy seas of private school life was + common enough—nevertheless, his father, conscious that the child's + life had been hitherto spent almost entirely among women, sent him every + morning during these last weeks at home down to the Curate of St. + Martin's-in-the-Market to learn a few words of Latin, an easy sum or two, + and the rudiments of spelling. This young curate, the Rev. Wilfred + Somerset, recently of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, had but two ideas in + his head—the noble game of cricket and the jolly qualities of Mr. + Surtees's novels. He was stout and strong, red-faced, and thick in the + leg, always smoking a largo black-looking pipe, and wearing trousers very + short and tight. He did not strike Jeremy with fear, but he was, + nevertheless, an influence. Jeremy, apparently, amused him intensely. He + would roar with laughter at nothing at all, smack his thigh and shout, + “Good for you, young 'un,” whatever that might mean, and Jeremy, gazing at + him, at his pipe and his trousers, liking him rather, but not sufficiently + in awe to be really impressed, would ask him questions that seemed to him + perfectly simple and natural, but that, nevertheless, amused the Rev. + Wilfred so fundamentally that he was unable to give them an intelligible + answer. + </p> + <p> + Undoubtedly this encouraged Jeremy's independence. + </p> + <p> + He walked to and fro the curate's lodging by himself, and was able to + observe many interesting things on the way. Sometimes, late in the + afternoon, he would have some lesson that he must take to his master who, + as he lodged at the bottom of Orange Street, was a very safe and steady + distance from the Coles. + </p> + <p> + Of course Aunt Amy objected. + </p> + <p> + “You allow Jeremy, all by himself, into the street at night, and he's only + eight. Really, you're too strange!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in the first place,” said Mrs. Cole, mildly, “it isn't night—it's + afternoon; in the second place, it is only just down the street, and + Jeremy's most obedient always, as you know, Amy.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure that Mr. Somerset is wild,” said Aunt Amy. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Amy, why'?” + </p> + <p> + “You've only got to look at his face. It's 'flashy.' That's what I call + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that isn't the sort of man who'll do Jeremy harm,” said Mrs. Cole, + with a mother's wisdom. + </p> + <p> + Certainly, he did Jeremy no harm at all; he taught him nothing, not even + “mensa,” and how to spell “receive” and “apple.” The only thing he did was + to encourage Jeremy's independence, and this was done, in the first place, + by the walks to and fro. + </p> + <p> + He had only been going to Mr. Somerset's a day or two when the + announcements of the Fair appeared on the walls of the town. He could not + help but see them; there was a large cue on the boarding half-way down + Orange Street, just opposite the Doctor's; a poster with a coloured + picture of “Wombwell's Circus,” a fine affair, with spangled ladies + jumping through hoops, elephants sitting on stools, tigers prowling, a + clown cracking a whip, and, best of all, a gentleman, with an anxious face + and a scanty but elegant costume, balanced above a gazing multitude on a + tight-rope. There was also a bill of the Fair setting forth that there + would be a “Cattle Market, Races, Roundabout, Swings, Wrestling, Boxing, + Fat Women, Dwarfs, and the Two-Headed Giant from the Caucasus.” During a + whole week, once a day, Jeremy read this bill from the top to the bottom; + at the end of the week he could repeat it all by heart. + </p> + <p> + He asked Mr. Somerset whether he was going. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall slip along one evening, I've no doubt,” replied that + gentleman. “But it's a bore—a whole week of it—upsets one's + work.” + </p> + <p> + “It needn't,” said Jeremy, “if you stay indoors.” + </p> + <p> + This amused Mr. Somerset immensely. He laughed a great deal. + </p> + <p> + “We always have to,” said Jeremy, rather hurt. “We're not allowed farther + than the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but I'm older than you are,” said Mr. Somerset. “It was the same with + me once.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you do? Did you go all the same?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet, I did,” said the red-faced hero, more intent on his + reminiscences than on the effect that this might have on the morals of his + pupil. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy waited then for the parental command that was always issued. It + was: “Now, children, you must promise me never to go outside the house + this week unless you have asked permission first.” And then: “And on no + account to speak to any stranger about anything whatever.” And then: + “Don't look out of the back windows, mind.” (From the extreme corners of + the bedroom windows you could see a patch of the meadow whereon the + gipsy-vans settled.) These commands had been as regular as the Fair, and + always, of course, the children had promised obedience. Jeremy told his + conscience that if, this year, he gave his promise, he would certainly + keep it. He wondered, at the same time, whether he might not possibly + manage to be out of the house when the commands were issued. He formed a + habit of suddenly slipping out of the room when he saw his father's mouth + assuming the shape of a “command.” He took the utmost care not to be alone + with his father. + </p> + <p> + But he need not have been alarmed. This year no command appeared. Perhaps + Mr. Cole thought that it was no longer necessary; it was obvious that the + children were not to go, and they were, after all, old enough now to think + for themselves. Or, perhaps, it was that Mr. Cole had other things on his + mind; he was changing curates just then, and a succession of white-faced, + soft-voiced, and loud-booted young men were appearing at the Coles' + hospitable table. + </p> + <p> + “Here's this tiresome Fair come round again,” said Mrs. Cole. + </p> + <p> + “Wicked!” said Aunt Amy, with an envious shudder. “Satan finds work, + indeed, in this town.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't suppose it's worse than anywhere else,” said Mrs. Cole. + </p> + <p> + On the late afternoon of the day before the opening, Jeremy, on his way to + Mr. Somerset's, caught the tailend of Wombwell's Circus Procession moving, + in misty splendour, across the market. + </p> + <p> + He could see but little, although he stood on the pedestal of a lamp-post; + but Britannia, rocking high in the air, flashing her silver sceptre in the + evening air, and followed by two enormous and melancholy elephants, caught + his gaze. Strains of a band lingered about him. He entered Mr. Somerset's + in a frenzy of excitement, but he said nothing. He felt that Mr. Somerset + would laugh at him. + </p> + <p> + He returned to his home that night haunted by Britannia. He ate Britannia + for his supper; he had Britannia for his dreams; and he greeted Rose as + Britannia the next morning when she called him. Early upon that day there + were borne into the heart of the house strains of the Fair. It was no use + whatever to close the windows, lock the doors, and read Divinity. The + strains persisted, a heavenly murmur, rising at moments into a muffled + shriek or a jumbling shout, hanging about the walls as a romantic echo, + dying upon the air a chastened wail. “No use for Mr. Cole to say: + </p> + <p> + “We must behave as though the Fair was not.” + </p> + <p> + For a whole week it would be there, and everyone knew it. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy did not mean to be disobedient, but after that glimpse of Britannia + he knew that he would go. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + It had, at first, been thought advisable that Jeremy should not go to Mr. + Somerset's during Fair Week. Perhaps Mr. Somerset could come to the + Coles'. No, he was very sorry. He must be in his rooms at that particular + hour in case parishioners should need his advice or assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Pity for him to miss all this week, especially as there will be only four + days left after that. I am really anxious for him to have a little + grounding in Latin.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cole smiled confidently. “I think Jeremy is to be trusted. He would + never do anything that you wouldn't like.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cole was not so sure. “He's not quite so obedient as I should wish. He + shows an independence—” + </p> + <p> + However, after some hesitation it was decided that Jeremy might be + trusted. + </p> + <p> + But even after that he was never put upon his honour. “If I don't promise, + I needn't mind,” he said to himself, and waited breathlessly; but nothing + came. Only Aunt Amy said: + </p> + <p> + “I hope you don't speak to little boys in the street, Jeremy.” To which he + replied scornfully: “Of course not.” + </p> + <p> + He investigated his money-box, removing the top with a tin-opener. He + found that he had there 3s. 3 1/2d.; a large sum, and enough to give him a + royal time. + </p> + <p> + Mary caught him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jeremy, what are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Just counting my money,” he said, with would-be carelessness. + </p> + <p> + “You're going to the Fair?” she whispered breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + He frowned. How could she know? She always knew everything. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he whispered back; “but if you tell anyone I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I wouldn't tell,” she replied, deeply offended. + </p> + <p> + This little conversation strengthened his purpose. He had not admitted to + himself that he was really going. Now he knew. + </p> + <p> + Wednesday would be the night. On Wednesday evenings his father had a + service which prevented him from returning home until half-past eight. He + would go to Somerset's at half-past four, and would be expected home at + half-past six; there would be no real alarm about him until his father's + return from church, and he could, therefore, be sure of two hours' bliss. + For the consequences he did not care at all. He was going to do no harm to + anyone or anything. They would be angry, perhaps, but that would not hurt + him, and, in any case, he was going to school next week. No one at school + would mind whether he had been to the Fair or no. + </p> + <p> + He felt aloof and apart, as though no one could touch him. He would not + have minded simply going into them all and saying: “I'm off to the Fair.” + The obvious drawback to that would have been that he would have been shut + up in his room, and then they might make him give his word... He would not + break any promises. + </p> + <p> + When Wednesday came it was a lovely day. Out in the field just behind the + Coles' house they were burning a huge bonfire of dead leaves. At first + only a heavy column of grey smoke rose, then flames broke through; little, + thin golden flames like paper; then a sudden fierce red tongue shot out + and went licking up into the air until it faded like tumbling water + against the sunlight. On the outer edge of the bonfire there was thin grey + smoke through which you could see as through glass. The smell was + heavenly, and even through closed windows the crackling of the burnt + leaves could be heard. The sight of the bonfire excited Jeremy. It seemed + to him a signal of encouragement, a spur to perseverance. All the morning + the flames crackled, and men came with wheelbarrows full of leaves and + emptied them in thick heaps upon the fire. At each emptying the fire would + be for a moment beaten, and only the white, thick, malicious smoke would + come through; then a little spit of flame, another, another; then a thrust + like a golden hand stretching out; then a fine, towering, quivering + splendour. + </p> + <p> + Under the full noonday sun the fire was pale and so unreal, weak, and + sickly, that one was almost ashamed to look at it. But as the afternoon + passed, it again gathered strength, and with the faint, dusky evening it + was a giant once more. + </p> + <p> + “You come along,” it said to Jeremy. “Come along! Come along!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to Mr. Somerset's, Mother,” he said, putting two exercise books + and a very new and shining blue Latin book together. + </p> + <p> + “Are you, dear? I suppose you're safe?” Mrs. Cole asked, looking through + the drawing-room window. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's all right,” said Jeremy + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think it is,” said Mrs. Cole. “The street seems quite empty. + Don't speak to any odd-looking men, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right,” he said again. + </p> + <p> + He walked down Orange Street, his books under his arm, the 3s. 3 1/2d. in + his pocket. The street was quite deserted, swimming in a cold, pale light; + the trees, the houses, the church, the garden-walls, sharp and black; the + street, dim and precipitous, tumbling forward into the blue, whence + lights, one, two, three, now a little bunch together, came pricking out. + </p> + <p> + The old woman opened the door when he rang Mr. Somerset's bell. + </p> + <p> + “Master's been called away,” she said in her croaking voice. “A burial. 'E + 'adn't time to let you know. 'Tell the little gen'l'man,' 'e said, 'I'm + sorry.'” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Jeremy; “thank you.” + </p> + <p> + He descended the steps, then stood where he was, in the street, looking up + and down. Who could deny that it was all being arranged for him? He felt + more than ever like God as he looked proudly about him. Everything served + his purpose. + </p> + <p> + The jingling of the money in his pocket reminded him that he must waste no + more time. He started off. + </p> + <p> + Even his progress through the town seemed wonderful, quite unattended at + last, as he had always all his life longed to be. So soon as he left + Orange Street and entered the market he was caught into a great crowd. It + was all stirring and humming with a noise such as the bonfire had all day + been making. It was his first introduction to the world—he had never + been in a large crowd before—and it is not to be denied but that his + heart beat thick and his knees trembled a little. But he pulled himself + together. Who was he to be afraid? But the books under his arm were a + nuisance. He suddenly dropped them in amongst the legs and boots of the + people. + </p> + <p> + There were many interesting sights to be seen in the market-place, but he + could not stay, and he found himself soon, to his own surprise, slipping + through the people as quietly and easily as though he had done it all his + days, only always he kept his hand on his money lest that should be stolen + and his adventure suddenly come to nothing. + </p> + <p> + He knew his way very well, and soon he was at the end of Finch Street + which in those days opened straight into fields and hedges. + </p> + <p> + Even now, so little has Polchester grown in thirty years, the fields and + hedges are not very far away. Here there was a stile with a large wooden + fence on either side of it, and a red-faced man saying: “Pay your + sixpences now! Come along... pay your sixpences now.” Crowds of people + were passing through the stile, jostling one another, pressing and + pushing, but all apparently in good temper, for there was a great deal of + laughter and merriment. From the other side of the fence came a torrent of + sound, so discordant and so tumultuous that it was impossible to separate + the elements of it one from another—screams, shrieks, the bellowing + of animals, and the monotonous rise and fall of scraps of tune, several + bars of one and then bars of another, and then everything lost together in + the general babel; and to the right of him Jeremy could see not very far + away quiet fields with cows grazing, and the dark grave wood on the + horizon. + </p> + <p> + Would he venture? For a moment his heart failed him—a wave of + something threatening and terribly powerful seemed to come out to him + through the stile, and the people who were passing in looked large and + fierce. Then he saw two small boys, their whole bearing one of audacious + boldness, push through. He was not going to be beaten. He followed a man + with a back like a wall. “One, please,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “'Come along now... pay your sixpences... pay your sixpences,” cried the + man. He was through. He stepped at once into something that had for him + all the elements of the most terrifying and enchanting of fairy tales. He + was planted, it seemed, in a giant world. At first he could see nothing + but the high and thick bodies of the people who moved on every side of + him; he peered under shoulders, he was lost amongst legs and arms, he + walked suddenly into waistcoat buttons and was flung thence on to walking + sticks. + </p> + <p> + But it was, if he had known it, the most magical hour of all for him to + have chosen. It was the moment when the sun, sinking behind the woods and + hills, leaves a faint white crystal sky and a world transformed in an + instant from sharp outlines and material form into coloured mist and + rising vapour. The Fair also was transformed, putting forward all its + lights and becoming, after the glaring tawdiness of the day, a place of + shadow and sudden circles of flame and dim obscurity. + </p> + <p> + Lights, even as Jeremy watched, sprang into the air, wavered, faltered, + hesitated, then rocked into a steady glow, only shifting a little with the + haze. On either side of him were rough, wooden stalls, and these were + illuminated with gas, which sizzled and hissed like angry snakes. The + stalls were covered with everything invented by man; here a sweet stall, + with thick, sticky lumps of white and green and red, glass bottles of + bulls' eyes and peppermints, thick slabs of almond toffee and pink + cocoanut icing, boxes of round chocolate creams and sticks of liquorice, + lumps of gingerbread, with coloured pictures stuck upon them, saffron + buns, plum cakes in glass jars, and chains of little sugary biscuits + hanging on long red strings. There was the old-clothes' stall with + trousers and coats and waistcoats, all shabby and lanky, swinging beneath + the gas, and piles of clothes on the boards, all nondescript and unhappy + and faded; there was the stall with the farm implements, and the medicine + stall, and the flower stall, and the vegetable stall, and many, many + another. Each place had his or her guardian, vociferous, red-faced, + screaming out the wares, lowering the voice to cajole, raising it again to + draw back a retreating customer, carrying on suddenly an intimate + conversation with the next-door shopkeeper, laughing, quarrelling, + arguing. + </p> + <p> + To Jeremy it was a world of giant heights and depths. Behind the stalls, + beyond the lane down which he moved, was an uncertain glory, a threatening + peril. He fancied that strange animals moved there; he thought he heard a + lion roar and an elephant bellow. The din of the sellers all about him + made it impossible to tell what was happening beyond there; only the + lights and bells, shouts and cries, confusing smells, and a great roar of + distant voices. + </p> + <p> + He almost wished that he had not come, he felt so very small and helpless; + he wondered whether he could find his way out again, and looking back, he + was for a moment terrified to see that the stream of people behind him + shut him in so that he could not see the stile, nor the wooden barrier, + nor the red-faced man. Pushed forward, he found himself at the end of the + lane and standing in a semi-circular space surrounded by strange-looking + booths with painted pictures upon them, and in front of them platforms + with wooden steps running up to them. Then, so unexpectedly that he gave a + little scream, a sudden roar burst out behind him. He turned and, indeed, + the world seemed to have gone mad. A moment ago there had been darkness + and dim shadow. Now, suddenly, there was a huge whistling, tossing circle + of light and flame, and from the centre of this a banging, brazen, + cymbal-clashing scream issued-a scream that, through its strident + shrillness, he recognised as a tune that he knew—a tune often + whistled by Jim at Cow Farm. “And her golden hair was hanging down her + back.” Whence the tune came he could not tell; from the very belly of the + flaming monster, it seemed; but, as he watched, he saw that the huge + circle whirled ever faster and faster, and that up and down on the flame + of it coloured horses rose and fell, vanishing from light to darkness, + from darkness to light, and seeming of their own free will and motion to + dance to the thundering music. + </p> + <p> + It was the most terrific thing that he had ever seen. The most terrific + thing... he stood there, his cap on the back of his head, his legs apart, + his mouth open; forgetting utterly the crowd, thinking nothing of time or + danger or punishment—he gazed with his whole body. + </p> + <p> + As his eyes grew more accustomed to the glare of the hissing gas, he saw + that in the centre figures were painted standing on the edge of a pillar + that revolved without pause. There was a woman with flaming red cheeks, a + gold dress and dead white dusty arms, a man with a golden crown and a + purple robe, but a broken nose, and a minstrel with a harp. The woman and + the king moved stiffly their arms up and down, that they might strike + instruments, one a cymbal and the other a drum. But it was finally the + horses that caught Jeremy's heart. Half of them at least were without + riders, and the empty ones went round pathetically, envying the more + successful ones and dancing to the music as though with an effort. One + especially moved Jeremy's sympathy. He was a fine horse, rather fresher + than the others, with a coal-black mane and great black bulging eyes; his + saddle was of gold and his trappings of red. As he went round he seemed to + catch Jeremy's eye and to beg him to come to him. He rode more securely + than the rest, rising nobly like a horse of fine breeding, falling again + with an implication of restrained force as though he would say: “I have + only to let myself go and there, my word, you would see where I'd get to.” + His bold black eyes turned beseechingly to Jeremy—surely it was not + only a trick of the waving gas; the boy drew closer and closer, never + moving his gaze from the horses who had hitherto been whirling at a + bacchanalian pace, but now, as at some sudden secret command, suddenly + slackened, hesitated, fell into a gentle jog-trot, then scarcely rose, + scarcely fell, were suddenly still. Jeremy saw what it was that you did if + you wanted to ride. A stout dirty man came out amongst the horses and, + resting his hands on their backs as though they were less than nothing to + him, shouted: “Now's your chance, lidies and gents! Now, lidies and gents! + Come along hup! Come along hup! The ride of your life now! A 'alfpenny a + time! A 'alfpenny a time, and the finest ride of your life!” + </p> + <p> + People began to mount the steps that led on to the platform where the + horses stood. A woman, then a man and a boy, then two men, then two girls + giggling together, then a man and a girl. + </p> + <p> + And the stout fellow shouted: “Come along hup! Come along hup! Now, lidies + and gents! A 'alfpenny a ride! Come along hup!” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy noticed then that the fine horse with the black mane had stopped + close beside him. Impossible to say whether the horse had intended it or + no! He was staring now in front of him with the innocent stupid gaze that + animals can assume when they do not wish to give themselves away. But + Jeremy could see that he was taking it for granted that Jeremy understood + the affair. “If you're such a fool as not to understand,” he seemed to + say, “well, then, I don't want you.” Jeremy gazed, and the reproach in + those eyes was more than he could endure. And at any moment someone else + might settle himself on that beautiful back! There, that stupid fat + giggling girl! No—she had moved elsewhere... He could endure it no + longer and, with a thumping heart, clutching a scalding penny in a red-hot + hand, he mounted the steps. “One ride—little gen'elman. 'Ere you + are! 'Old on now! Oh, you wants that one, do yer? Eight yer are—yer + pays yer money and yer takes yer choice.” He lifted Jeremy up. “Put yer + arms round 'is neck now—'e won't bite yer!” + </p> + <p> + Bite him indeed! Jeremy felt, as he clutched the cool head and let his + hand slide over the stiff black mane, that he knew more about that horse + than his owner did. He seemed to feel beneath him the horse's response to + his clutching knees, the head seemed to rise for a moment and nod to him + and the eyes to say: “It's all right. I'll look after you. I'll give you + the best ride of your life!” He felt, indeed, that the gaze of the whole + world was upon him, but he responded to it proudly, staring boldly around + him as though he had been seated on merry-go-rounds all his days. Perhaps + some in the gaping crowd knew him and were saying: “Why, there's the Rev. + Cole's kid—” Never mind; he was above scandal. From where he was he + could see the Fair lifted up and translated into a fantastic splendour. + Nothing was certain, nothing defined—above him a canopy of evening + sky, with circles and chains of stars mixed with the rosy haze of the + flame of the Fair; opposite him was the Palace of “The Two-Headed Giant + from the Caucasus,” a huge man as portrayed in the picture hanging on his + outer walls, a giant naked, save for a bearskin, with one head black and + one yellow, and white protruding teeth in both mouths. Next to him was the + Fortune Teller's, and outside this a little man with a hump beat a drum. + Then there was “The Theatre of Tragedy and Mirth,” with a poster on one + side of the door portraying a lady drowning in the swiftest of rivers, but + with the prospect of being saved by a stout gentleman who leaned over from + the bank and grasped her hair. Then there was the “Chamber of the Fat Lady + and the Six Little Dwarfs,” and the entry to this was guarded by a dirty + sour-looking female who gnashed her teeth at a hesitating public, before + whom, with a splendid indifference to appearance, she consumed, out of a + piece of newspaper, her evening meal. + </p> + <p> + All these things were in Jeremy's immediate vision, and beyond them was a + haze that his eyes could not penetrate. It held, he knew, wild beasts, + because he could hear quite clearly from time to time the lion and the + elephant and the tiger; it held music, because from somewhere through all + the noise and confusion the tune of a band penetrated; it held buyers and + sellers and treasures and riches, and all the inhabitants of the world—surely + all the world must be here to-night. And then, beyond the haze, there were + the silent and mysterious gipsy caravans. Dark with their little square + windows, and their coloured walls, and their round wheels, and the smell + of wood fires, and the noise of hissing kettles and horses cropping the + grass, and around them the still night world with the thick woods and the + dark river. + </p> + <p> + He did not see it all as he sat on his horse—he was, as yet, too + young; but he did feel the contrast between the din and glare around him + and the silence and dark beyond, and, afterwards, looking back, he knew + that he had found in that same contrast the very heart of romance. As it + was, he simply clutched his horse's beautiful head and waited for the ride + to begin... + </p> + <p> + They were off! He felt his horse quiver under him, he saw the mansions of + the Two-Headed Giant and the Fat Lady slip to the right, the light seemed + to swing like the skirt of someone's dress, upwards across the floor, and + from the heart of the golden woman and the king and the minstrel a scream + burst forth as though they were announcing the end of the world. After + that he had no clear idea as to what occurred. He was swung into space, + and all the life that had been so stationary, the booths, the lights, the + men and women, the very stars went swinging with him as though to cheer + him on; the horse under him galloped before, and the faster he galloped + the wilder was the music and the dizzier the world. He was exultant, + omnipotent, supreme. He had long known that this glory was somewhere if it + could only be found, all his days he seemed to have been searching for it; + he beat his horse's neck, he drove his legs against his sides. “Go on! Go + on! Go on!” he cried. “Faster! Faster! Faster!” + </p> + <p> + The strangest things seemed to rise to his notice and then fall again—a + peaked policeman's hat, flowers, a sudden flame of gas, the staring eyes + and dead white arms of the golden woman, the flying forms of the horses in + front of him. All the world was on horseback, all the world was racing + higher and higher, faster and faster. He saw someone near him rise on to + his horse's back and stand on it, waving his arms. He would like to have + done that, but he found that he was part of his horse, as though he had + been glued to it. He shouted, he cried aloud, he was so happy that he + thought of no one and nothing... The flame danced about him in a circle, + he seemed to rise so high that there was a sudden stillness, he was in the + very heart of the stars; then came the supreme moment when, as he had + always known, that one day he would be, he was master of the world... + Then, like Lucifer, he fell. Slowly the stars receded, the music + slackened, people rocked on to their feet again... The Two-Headed Giant + slipped hack once more into his place, he saw the sinister lady still + devouring her supper, women looking up at him gaped. His horse gave a last + little leap and died. + </p> + <p> + This marvellous experience he repeated four times, and every time with an + ecstasy more complete than the last. He rushed to a height, he fell, he + rushed again, he fell, and at every return to a sober life his one + intention was instantly to be off on his steed once more. He was about to + start on his fifth journey, he had paid his halfpenny, he was sitting + forward with his hands on the black mane, his eyes, staring, were filled + already with the glory that he knew was coming to him, his cheeks were + crimson, his hat on the back of his head, his hair flying. He heard a + voice, quiet and cool, a little below him, but very near: + </p> + <p> + “Jeremy... Jeremy. Come off that. You've got to go home.” + </p> + <p> + He looked down and saw his Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + It was all over; he knew at once that it was all over. + </p> + <p> + As he slipped down from his dear horse he gave the glossy dark mane one + last pat; then, with a little sigh, he found his feet, stumbled over the + wooden steps and was at his uncle's side. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Samuel looked queer enough with a squashy black hat, a black cloak + flung over his shoulders, and a large cherry-wood pipe in his mouth. + Jeremy looked up at him defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Uncle Samuel sarcastically. “It's nothing to you, I suppose, + that the town-crier is at this moment ringing his bell for you up and down + the Market Place?” + </p> + <p> + “Does father know?” Jeremy asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “He does,” answered Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy cast one last look around the place; the merry-go-round was engaged + once more upon its wild course, the horses rising and falling, the golden + woman clashing the cymbals, the minstrel striking, with his dead eyes + fixed upon space, his harp. All about men were shouting; the noise of the + coconut stores, of the circus, of the band, of the hucksters and the + charlatans, the crying of children, the laughter of women—all the + noise of the Fair bathed Jeremy up to his forehead. + </p> + <p> + He swam in it for the last time. He tried to catch one last glimpse of his + coal-black charger, then, with a sigh, he said, turning to his uncle: “I + suppose we'd better be going.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose we had,” said Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + They threaded their way through the Fair, passed the wooden stile, and + were once again in the streets, dark and ancient under the moon, with all + the noise and glare behind them. Jeremy was thinking to himself: “It + doesn't matter what Father does, or how angry he is, that was worth it.” + It was strange how little afraid he was. Only a year ago to be punished by + his father had been a terrible thing. Now, since his mother's illness in + the summer, his father had seemed to have no influence over him. + </p> + <p> + “Did they bend you, or did you just come yourself, Uncle?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “I happened to be taking the air in that direction,” said Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you didn't come away before you wanted to,” said Jeremy politely. + </p> + <p> + “I did not,” said his uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Is Father very angry?” asked Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “It's more than likely he may be. The Town Crier's expensive.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think they'd know,” explained Jeremy. “I meant to get back in + time.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father didn't go to church,” said Uncle Samuel. “So your sins were + quickly discovered.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Just as they were climbing Orange Street he said: + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Samuel, I think I'll be a horse-trainer.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, will you?... Well, before you train horses you've got to train + yourself. Think of others beside yourself. A fine state you've put your + mother into to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy looked distressed. “She'd know if I was dead, someone would come + and tell her,” he said. “But I'll tell Mother I'm sorry... But I won't + tell Father,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked Uncle Samuel. + </p> + <p> + “Because he'll make such a fuss. And I'm not sorry. He never told me not + to.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you knew you hadn't to.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very good at obeying,” explained Jeremy, “if someone says something; + but if someone doesn't, there isn't anyone to obey.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Samuel shook his head. “You'll be a bit of a prig, my son, if you + aren't careful,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I think it will be splendid to be a horse-trainer,” said Jeremy. “It was + a lovely horse to-night... And I only spent a shilling. I had three and + threepence halfpenny.” + </p> + <p> + At the door of their house Uncle Samuel stopped and said: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young man, they say it's time you went to school, and I don't + think they're far wrong. There are things wiser heads than yours can + understand, and you'd better take their word for it. In the future, if you + want to go running off somewhere, you'd better content yourself with my + studio and make a mess there.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, may I?” cried Jeremy delighted. + </p> + <p> + That studio had been always a forbidden place to them, and had, therefore, + its air of enchanting mystery. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you really mind my coming?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I shall probably hate it,” answered his uncle; “but there's nothing I + wouldn't do for the family.” + </p> + <p> + The boy walked to his father's study and knocked on the door. He did have + then, at the sound of that knock, a moment of panic. The house was so + silent, and he knew so well what would follow the opening of the door. And + the worst of it was that he was not sorry in the least. He seemed to be + indifferent and superior, as though no punishment could touch him. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” said his father. + </p> + <p> + He pushed open the door and entered. The scene that followed was grave and + sad, and yet, in the end, strangely unimpressive. His father talked too + much. As he talked Jeremy's thoughts would fly back to the coal-black + horse and to that moment when he had seemed to fly into the very heart of + the stars. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Jeremy, how could you?” said his father. “Is obedience nothing to + you? Do you know how God punishes disobedience? Think what a terrible + thing is a disobedient man!” Then on a lower scale: “I really don't know + what to do with you. You knew that you were not to go near that wicked + place.” + </p> + <p> + “You never said—” interrupted Jeremy. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! You knew well enough. You will break your mother's heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell her I'm sorry,” he interrupted quickly. + </p> + <p> + “If you are really sorry—” said his father. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sorry I went,” said Jeremy, “but I'm sorry I hurt Mother.” + </p> + <p> + The end of it was that Jeremy received six strokes on the hand with a + ruler. Mr. Cole was not good at this kind of thing, and twice he missed + Jeremy's hand altogether, and looked very foolish. It was not an edifying + scene. Jeremy left the room, his head high, his spirit obstinate; and his + father remained, puzzled, distressed, at a loss, anxious to do what was + right, but unable to touch his son at all. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy went up to his room. He opened his window and looked out. He could + smell the burnt leaves of the bonfire. There was no flame now, but he + fancied that he could see a white shadow where it had been. Then, on the + wind, came the music of the Fair. + </p> + <p> + “Tum—te—Tum... Tum—te—Tum... Whirr—Whirr—Whirr—Bang—Bang.” + </p> + <p> + Somewhere an owl cried, and then another owl answered. + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his sore hand against his trousers; then, thinking of his black + horse, he smiled. + </p> + <p> + He was a free man. In a week he would go to school; then he would go to + College; then he would be a horsetrainer. + </p> + <p> + He was in bed; faintly into the dark room, stole the scent of the bonfire + and the noise of the Fair. + </p> + <p> + “Tum—te-Tum... Tum—te—Tum...” + </p> + <p> + He was asleep, riding on a giant charger across boundless plains. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. HAMLET WAITS + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + The last day! Jeremy, suddenly waking, realised this with a confusion of + feeling as though he were sentenced to the dentist's, but, oddly enough, + looked forward to his visit. Going to school, one had, of course, long ago + perceived, was a mixed business; but the balance was now greatly to the + good. It was a step in the right direction towards liberty and freedom. + Thank Heaven! + </p> + <p> + No one in the family was likely to make a fuss about his departure, unless + it were possibly Mary, and she had, of late, kept very much to herself and + worried him scarcely at all. Indeed, he felt guilty about Mary. He was + fond of her, really... Funny kid... If only she didn't make fusses! + </p> + <p> + Yes, it was unlike his family to make fusses. He realised that very + plainly to-day. Everyone went about his or her daily business with no + implication whatever that something extraordinary was going to happen + tomorrow. Perhaps they were all secretly relieved that he was off. He had + been, he knew, something of a failure during these last months; one + trouble after another; the scandal of his visit to the Fair as the grand + finale. He felt that there was, in some way, some injustice in all this. + He had no desire to be bad or rebellious—on the contrary he wished + to do all that his elders ordered him—but he could not prevent the + rising of his own individuality, which showed him quite clearly whether he + should do a thing or no. It was as though something inside him pushed + him... whereas they, all of them, only checked him. + </p> + <p> + He loved his mother best, and he was secretly disappointed to find how + ordinary an affair his departure was to her. He realised, with a + perception that was beyond his years, that the infant Barbara was now + rapidly occupying the position, as centre of the family, that he had held. + Barbara, everyone declared, was a charming baby—the house revolved, + to some extent, round Barbara. But, then again, this isolation was + entirely his own fault. During the summer holidays he had gone his own + way, and had wanted no one but Hamlet as his companion. He had no right to + complain. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he did not know quite what to do, and it was obvious, + also, that no one knew quite what to do with him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cole said: “Jeremy, dear, Ponting has never sent that letter paper + and envelopes that he promised, and Father must have them to-day. Would + you go down and bring them back with you? Father will write a note.” + </p> + <p> + No one seemed to realise what an abysmal change from earlier conditions + this casual sentence marked. That he should go to Footing's, which was on + the farther side of the town, alone and unattended, seemed to no one + peculiar; and yet, only six months ago, a walk without Miss Jones was + undreamt of; and, before her, no more than nine months back, there was the + Jampot! He was delighted to go; but, of course, he did not show his + delight. + </p> + <p> + All he said was: “Yes, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + He was in his new clothes: stiff black jacket, black knickerbockers, black + stockings, black boots. No more navy suits with white braid and whistles! + Perhaps he would see the Dean's Ernest. It was his most urgent desire! + </p> + <p> + He started off, accompanied by a barking, bounding Hamlet, who showed no + perception of the calamity that threatened to tumble upon him. For Jeremy, + leaving Hamlet was a dreadful affair. In three months a dog can change + more swiftly than a human being, and Hamlet, although not a supremely + greedy dog, had shown of late increasing signs of a love of good food, and + a regrettable tendency to fawn upon the giver of the same, even when it + was Aunt Amy. Jeremy had checked this tendency, and had issued punishments + when necessary, and Hamlet had accepted the same without a murmur. So long + as Jeremy was there Hamlet's character was secure; but now, during this + long absence, anything might happen. There was no one to whom Jeremy might + leave him; no one who had the slightest idea what a dog should do and what + he should not. + </p> + <p> + These melancholy thoughts filled Jeremy's mind when he started upon his + walk, but soon he was absorbed by his surroundings. He realised even more + drastically than the facts warranted that he was making his farewell to + the town. + </p> + <p> + He was not making his final farewell; he would not make that until his + death, and, perhaps, not then; but he was making farewell to some of his + sense of his wonder in it, only not, thank God, to the sense of wonder + itself! + </p> + <p> + As he went he met the daily figures of all his walks, and he could not + help but speculate on their realisation of the great change that was + coming to him. It was absurd to suppose that they were saying to + themselves: “Ah, there's young Jeremy Cole! He's off to school tomorrow. I + wonder what he feels about it!...” No, that was incredible, and yet they + must realise something of the adventure. + </p> + <p> + He, on his part, stared at them with a new interest. They had before + shared in the inevitable background without individuality. But now that he + was leaving them, and they would grow, as it were, without his permission, + he was forced to grant them independence. At the bottom of Orange Street + he met Mr. Dawson, the Cathedral Organist; he was a little, plump man, in + a very neat grey suit, a shiny top hat, and very small spats. He was + always dressed in the same fashion, and carried a black music-case under + his arm. He had an eternal interest for Jeremy because, whenever he was + mentioned, the phrase was: “Poor little Mr. Dawson!” Why he was to be + pitied Jeremy did not know. He looked spruce and bright enough, and + generally whistled to himself as he walked; but “poor” was an exciting + adjective, and Jeremy, when he passed him, felt a little shudder of drama + run down his spine. + </p> + <p> + Outside Poole's bookshop there was, of course, Mr. Mockridge. Mr. + Mockridge was the poorest of the Canons; so poor, that it had become a + proverb in the place: “As poor as Mr. Mockridge”; and also another + proverb, I am afraid, from the same source: “As dirty as Mr. Mockridge.” + He was a very long, thin man, with a big, pointing nose, coloured red, not + from indigestion, and most certainly not from drink, but simply, I think, + because the wind caught it. His passion was for books, and he might be + seen every afternoon, between three and four o'clock, bending over Poole's + 2d. box, a dirty handkerchief flying out of the tail of his long, black + coat, and a green, bulging umbrella, pointing outwards, under his arm, to + the infinite danger of all the passers-by. He was so commonplace a figure + to Jeremy that, on ordinary days, he was shrouded by an invisibility of + tradition. But, to-day, he was fresh and strange. “He'll be here to-morrow + poking his nose into that box just the same, and I shall be—” + </p> + <p> + Then, on the outskirts of the Market Place, Jeremy paused and looked about + him. There was all the usual business of the place—the wooden + trestles with the flowerpots, the apple-woman under her umbrella, the + empty cattle-pens, where the cows and sheep stood on market days, and + behind them the dark, vaulted arches of the actual market, now empty and + deserted. Bathed in sunlight it lay very quiet and still; some pigeons + pecking at grain, a dog or two, and children playing round the empty + cattle-stalls. From the hill above the square the Cathedral boomed the + hour, and all the pigeons rose in a flight, hovered, then slowly settled + again. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy sighed, and, with a strange pain at his heart that he could not + analyse, moved up the hill. The High Street is, of course, the West End of + Polchester, and in the morning, between ten and one, every lady in the + town may be seen at her shopping. It had always been the ambition of the + Cole children to be taken for their walk up High Street in the morning; + but it was an ambition very rarely gratified, because they stopped so + often and were always in everyone's way. And here was Jeremy, at this gay + hour, a trolling up the High Street all by himself he lifted his head, + pushed out his chest, and looked the world in the face. He might meet the + Dean's Ernest at any moment. The first people whom he saw were the Misses + Cragg—always known, of course, as “The Cragg girls.” They were, + perhaps, Polchester's most constant and obvious feature. There were four + of them, all as yet unmarried, all with brown-red faces and hard straw + hats, short skirts, and tremendous voices; forerunners, in fact, of a type + now almost universal. They played croquet and lawn-tennis, were prominent + members of the Archery Club, and hunted when their fathers would let them. + They were terrible Dianas to Jeremy. He had met one of them once at a + Children's Dance, and she had whirled him around until, with a terrified + scream, he broke, howling, from her arms, and hid himself in the large + bosom of the Jampot. He was always ashamed of this memory, and he could + never see them without blushing; but, to-day, he seemed less afraid of + them, and actually, when he passed them, touched his hat and looked them + in the face. They all smiled and nodded to him, and when they had gone he + was so deeply astonished at this adventure that he had to stop and + consider himself. If the Craggs were nothing to him, what might he not + face? + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Hamlet. How dare you?” he ordered in so sharp and military a + voice that Hamlet, who had merely cast a most innocent glance at a + disdainful and conceited white poodle, looked up at his master with + surprise. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, his new-found hardihood received, in the very midst of his + self-congratulation, its severest test. He stumbled into the very path of + the Dean's wife. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dean could never have seemed to anyone a large woman, but to Jeremy + she had always been a terror. She was thick and hard, like a wall, and + wore the kind of silken clothes, that rustled—like the whispering of + a whole meeting of frightened clergymen's wives—as she moved. She + had a hard, condemnatory voice, and she spoke as though she were + addressing an assembly; but, worst of all, she had black, beetling + eyebrows, and these frightened Jeremy into fits. He did not, of course, + know that the poor lady suffered continually from nervous headaches. He + suddenly heard that voice in his ear: “Good morning, Jeremy, and where are + you off to so early?” Mrs. Dean was never so awful as when she was jolly, + and Jeremy, caught up by the eyebrows as though they had been hooks and + hung thus in mid-air for all the street to laugh at, nearly lost his + command of his natural tongue. He found his voice just in time: + </p> + <p> + “To Ponting's,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “All alone? Ah, no, I see you have your little dog. Nice little dog. And + how's your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “She's quite well, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right—that's right. We haven't seen you lately. You must + come up to tea with your sisters. I'm afraid you won't find Ernest, he's + gone back to school—but I dare say you're not too big to play with + little girls.” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy felt some triumph at his heart. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to school to-morrow,” he said. But if he expected Mrs. Dean to + be pitiful at this statement he was greatly mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “Are you, indeed? Such a pity you couldn't have gone with Ernest—but + he'd be senior to you, of course... Good-bye. Good-bye. Give my love to + your mother,” and she pounded her way along. + </p> + <p> + “She's a beastly woman anyway” thought Jeremy. “I wish I'd found something + to say to her. I wonder whether she knows I knocked Ernest down in the + summer and trod on him?” + </p> + <p> + But the sight of the High Street soon restored his equanimity. On other + occasions he had been pushed through it, either by the Jampot or Miss + Jones, so rapidly that he could gather only the most fleeting impressions. + To-day he could linger and linger; he did. The two nicest shops were + Mannings' the hairdressers and Ponting's the book-shop, but Rose the + grocer's, and Coulter's the confectioner's were very good. Mr. Manning was + an artist. He did not simply put a simpering bust with an elaborate head + of hair in his window and leave it at that—he did, indeed, place + there a smiling lady with a wonderful jewelled comb and a radiant row of + teeth, but around this he built up a magnificent world of silver brushes, + tortoise-shell combs, essences and perfumes and powders, jars and bottles + and boxes. Manning was the finest artist in the town. Ponting, at the top + of the street just at the corner of the Close, was an artist too, but in + quite another fashion. Ponting was the best established, most sacred and + serious bookseller in the county. In the days when the new “Waverley” was + the sensation of the moment Mr. Ponting, grandfather of the present Mr. + Ponting, had been in quite constant correspondence with Mr. Southey, and + Mr. Coleridge, and had once, when on a visit to London, spoken to the + great Lord Byron himself. This tradition of aristocracy remained, and the + present Mr. Pouting always advised the Bishop what to read and was + consulted by Mrs. Lamb, our only authoress, on questions of publishers and + editions and such technical points. For all this Jeremy, at his present + stage of interest, would have cared nothing even had he known it, but what + he did care for were the rows of calf-bound books with little ridges of + gold, that made a fine wall across the window with an old print of the + Cathedral and the Close in the middle of them. Inside Pontings there was a + hush as of the study and the church combined. It was a rather dark shop + with rows and rows of books disappearing into the ceiling, and one grave + and unnaturally old young man behind the counter. Jeremy did not know what + he should do about Hamlet, so he brought him inside, only to discover to + his horror that the fiercest of all the Canons, Canon Waterbury, held the + floor of the shop. Canon Waterbury had a black beard and a biting tongue. + He had once warned Jeremy off the Cathedral grass in a voice of thunder, + and Jeremy had never forgotten it. He glared now and pulled his beard, but + Hamlet fortunately behaved well, and the old young man discovered Jeremy's + notepaper within a very short period. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly the Canon spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Dogs should not be inside shops,” He said, as though he were condemning + someone to death. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Jeremy frankly. “I wanted to tie him up to something and + there was nothing to tie him up to.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you bring him out for at all?” said the Canon. + </p> + <p> + “Because he's got to have exercise,” said Jeremy, discovering, to his own + delighted surprise, that he was not frightened in the least. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, has he? I don't know what people keep dogs for.” + </p> + <p> + And then he stamped out of the shop. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy regarded this in the light of a victory and marched away, his head + more in the air than ever. He should now have hurried home. The midday + chimes had rung out and Jeremy's duties were performed. But he lingered, + listening to the last notes of the chimes, hearing the cries of the + Cathedral choir-boys as they moved across the green to the choir-school, + watching all the people hurry up and down the street. Ah, there was the + Castle carriage! Perhaps the old Countess was inside it. He had only seen + her once, at some service in the Cathedral to which his mother had taken + him, but she had made a great impression on him with her snow-white hair. + He had heard people speak of her as “a wicked old woman.” Perhaps she was + inside the carriage... but he only saw the Castle coachman and footman and + the coronet on the door. It rolled slowly up the hill with its fine air of + commanding the whole world—then it disappeared around the corner of + the Close. + </p> + <p> + Jeremy decided then that he would go home across the green and down + Orchard Lane. He had a wish to enter the Cathedral for a moment; such a + visit would, after all, complete the round of his experiences. He had + never entered the Cathedral alone, and now, as he saw it facing him, so + vast and majestic and quiet, across the sun-drenched green, he felt a + sudden fear and awe. He found a ring in a stone near the west end through + which he might fasten Hamlet's lead, then, slowly pushing back the heavy + door, he passed inside. The Cathedral was utterly quiet. The vast nave, + stained with reflections of purple and green and ruby, was vague and + unsubstantial, all the little wooden chairs huddled together to the right + and left, leaving a great path that swept up to the High Altar under + shafts of light that fell like searchlights from the windows. The tombs + and the statues peered dimly from the shadow, and the great east end + window, with its deep purple light, seemed to draw the whole nave up into + its heart and hold it there. All was space and silence, light and dusk; a + little doll of a verger moved in the far distance, an old woman, so quiet + that she seemed only a shadow, passed him, wiping the little chairs with a + duster. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Jeremy that he had never been in the Cathedral before; he + stood there, breathless, as though in a moment something must inevitably + happen. Although he did not think of it, the moment was one of a sequence + that had come to him during the year—his entry into the theatre with + his uncle, his first conversation with the sea-captain, the hour when his + mother had been so ill, the evening on the beach when Charlotte had been + frightened, the time when Hamlet had been lost and he had slept with him + under a tree. All these moments had been something more than merely + themselves, had had something behind them or inside them for which simply + they stood as words stand for pictures. He analysed, of course, nothing, + being a perfectly healthy small boy, but if afterwards he looked back + these were the moments that he saw as one sees stations on a journey. One + day he would know for what they stood. + </p> + <p> + He simply now waited there as though he expected something to happen. + Thoughts slipped through his mind quite casually, whether Hamlet were + behaving well outside, what the old lady did when she was tired of + dusting, who the stone figure lying near him might be, a figure very fine + with his ruff and his peaked beard, his arms folded, his toes pointing + upwards, whether the body were inside the stone like a mummy, or + underneath the ground some-where; how strangely different the nave looked + now from its Sunday show, and what fun it would be to run races all the + way down and see who could reach the golden angels over the reredos first; + he felt no reverence, and yet a deep reverence, no fear, but, + nevertheless, awe; he was warm and happy and comfortable, and yet + suddenly, giving a little shudder, he slipped out into the sunlight, + released Hamlet and started for home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + Back again in the bosom of his family he felt that they were beginning to + be aware of his departure. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do this evening, Jeremy—your last evening?” said his + mother. + </p> + <p> + Everyone looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” he said uncomfortably. “Just as usual, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “You're making him feel uncomfortable,” said Aunt Amy, who loved to + explain quite obvious things. “You want it to be just an ordinary evening, + dear, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” he said again, hating his aunt. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think that quite the way to speak to your aunt, my son,” said his + father. “We only inquire out of kindness, thinking to please you. No, + Mary, no more. Friday—one helping—” + </p> + <p> + “Jeremy might have another as it's his last day, I suggest,” said Aunt + Amy, who was determined to be pleasant. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any, thank you,” said Jeremy, although it was treacle + pudding, which he loved. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think,” said Mrs. Cole, “that we'll have high tea at half-past + seven, and the children shall stay up afterwards and we'll have + 'Midshipman Easy.'” + </p> + <p> + Jeremy loved his mother intensely at that moment. How did she know so + exactly what was right? She made so little disturbance, was so quiet and + was never angry, and yet she was always right when the others were always + wrong. She knew that above all things he loved high tea—fish pie and + boiled eggs and tea and jam and cake—a horrible meal that his later + judgment would utterly condemn, but nevertheless something so cosy and so + comfortable that no later meal would ever be able to rival it in those + qualities. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that will be lovely!” he said, his face shining all over. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, as the afternoon advanced a strange new sense of insecurity, + unhappiness and forlornness crept increasingly upon him. He realised that + he had that morning said good-bye to the town, and now he felt as though + he had, in some way, hurt or insulted it. And, all the afternoon, he was + saying farewell to the house. He did not wander from room to room, but + rather sat up in the schoolroom pretending to mend a fishing rod which Mr. + Monk had given him that summer. He did not really care about the rod—he + was not even thinking of it. He heard all the sounds of the house as he + sat there. He could tell all the clocks, that one booming softly the half + hours was in his mother's bedroom, there was a rattle and a whirr and + there came the cuckoo-clock on the stairs, there was the fast, cheap + careless chatter of the little clock on the schoolroom mantelpiece, there + was the whisper of Miss Jones's watch which she had put out on the table + to mark the time of Mary's sewing by. There were all the regular sounds of + the house. The distant closing of doors, deep down in the heart of the + house someone was using a sewing machine somewhere, voices came up out of + the void and faded again, someone whistled, someone sang. His gloom + increased. He was exchanging a world he knew for a world that he did not + know, and he could not escape the feeling that he was, in some way, + insulting this world that he was leaving. He bothered himself all the + afternoon with unnecessary stupid affairs to cover his deep discomfort. He + whistled carelessly and out of tune, he poked the fire and walked about. + He was increasingly aware of Hamlet and Mary. Mary was determined so hard + that she would show no emotion at all that she was a painful sight to + witness. She scarcely spoke to him, and only answered in monosyllables if + he asked her something. + </p> + <p> + And Hamlet had suddenly discovered that the atmosphere of the house was + unusual. He had expected, in the first place, to be taken for a walk that + afternoon; then his master was very busy doing nothing, which was most + unusual. Then at tea time his worst suspicions were confirmed. Jeremy + suddenly made a fuss of him, pouring his tea into his saucer, giving him a + piece of bread and jam and an extra lump of sugar. Hamlet drank his tea + and ate his bread and jam thoughtfully. They were very nice, but what was + the matter? + </p> + <p> + He looked up through his hair and discovered that his master's eyes were + restless and unhappy, and that he was thinking of things that disturbed + him. He went away to the fire and, sitting on his haunches, gazing in his + metaphysical way at the flames, considered the matter. Jeremy came over to + him and, drawing him back to him, laid his head upon his knee and so held + him. Hamlet did not move, save occasionally to sigh, and, once or twice, + to snap in a sudden way that he had at an imaginary fly. He thought that + in all probability his master had been punished for something, and in this + he was deeply sympathetic, never seeing why his master need be punished + for anything and resenting the stupidity of human beings with their + eternal desire to be, in some way or other, asserting their authority. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, in front of the hot fire, both boy and dog fell asleep. + Jeremy's dreams were confused, bewildered, distressing; he was struggling + to find something, was always climbing higher and higher to discover it, + only to be told that, in the end, he was in the place where he had begun. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet's dream was of an enormous succulent bone that was pulled away from + him so soon as he snapped at it. They both awoke with a start to find that + it was time for high tea. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Throughout the evening Jeremy was more and more lonely. He had never + before felt so deep an affection for the family and never been so utterly + unable to express it. It was as though, during the whole year he had, by + his own will, been slipping away from them, and now they had gone too far + for him to call them back. + </p> + <p> + He sat on the floor at his mother's feet whilst she read “Midshipman + Easy.” It was all so cosy, the room was so comfortable with all the + familiar pictures and photographs and books, and Helen and Mary diligently + sewing, and Hamlet stretched out in front of the fire, his nose on his + paws—six months ago Jeremy would have felt utterly and absolutely + part of it. Now he was outside it and, at the same time, was inside + nothing else. It might be that in a week's time he would be so familiar + with his new world that he would be as happy as a cricket—he did not + know. He only knew that at this moment he would have given all that he had + to fling his arms round his mother's neck, to be hugged and kissed and + nursed by her, and that, at the same time, he would have died rather than + do such a thing. + </p> + <p> + The evening came to an end. The girls got up and said good-night. His + mother kissed him, holding him perhaps for a moment longer than usual, but + at that same instant she said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I must remind Ella about the half-past seven breakfast again, she + always has to be told everything twice.” + </p> + <p> + The girls went on ahead, Jeremy and Hamlet following close behind. Jeremy + found himself alone in the schoolroom, where the fire was very low, giving + only little spurts and flashes that ran like golden snakes suddenly + through the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Moved by an impulse, he went to the toy-cupboard and, opening it, put his + hand quite by chance on the toy village. The toy village! He laid it out + and spread it on the floor. He could not see, but he knew every piece by + heart, and he laid it all out, the church and the flower garden, and the + Noah's house and the village street, the animals and the Noahs. What + centuries ago that birthday was, what worlds away! How excited he had + been, and now—! + </p> + <p> + With a sudden impatient gesture he tumbled the pieces over on to their + sides, then quickly, as though he were afraid of the dark, went into his + bedroom and began to undress. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + In the morning events moved too quickly for thought. He had still the same + lonely pain at his heart, but now he simply was not given time to consider + it. + </p> + <p> + His father called him into the study. He gave him ten shillings and a new + prayer-book. Jeremy knew that he was trying to come close to him and be a + friend of a new kind to him. + </p> + <p> + He heard in a distance such words as: “... a new world, full of trial and + temptation. God sees us... Work at your Latin... cricket and football... + prayers every night...” But he could feel no emotion nothing but terror + lest some sudden stupid emotional scene should occur. Nothing occurred. He + kissed his father and went. + </p> + <p> + Then, quite suddenly, just as he came down in his hat and coat and heard + that the cab was there, his restraint melted; he was free and impulsive + and natural. He kissed Mary, telling her: + </p> + <p> + “You may have my toy village. I'd like you to—Yes, rather. I mean + it.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed Helen and Barbara, and then held to his mother, not caring + whether all the world was there to see. The old life was going with him! + He was not leaving it after all. The town and the house, and all the + things to which he had thought that he had said good-bye, were going with + him. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet! He found the dog struggling to get into the cab. That was more + than he could stand. He was not going to make a fool of himself, but the + only way to be secure was to get into the cab and hide there. He caught + Hamlet's head, gave it a kiss, then jumped in, catching a last glimpse of + the family grouped at the door, the servants at the window, the old garden + with the dead leaves gathered upon it, Hamlet held, struggling, in Mary's + arms. + </p> + <p> + He choked down his sobs, felt the ten shillings in his pocket, then with a + mighty resolve, to which it seemed that the labours of Hercules were as + nothing, leaned out and waved his hand. + </p> + <p> + The cab rolled off. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet lay down upon the mat just inside the hall-door. Someone tried to + pull him away. He growled, showing his teeth. His master had gone out. He + would wait for his return—and no one should move him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jeremy, by Hugh Walpole + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEREMY *** + +***** This file should be named 3474-h.htm or 3474-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/7/3474/ + +Produced by Charles Franks, the Online Distributed Proofreading Team, +and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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