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.

"I want to go," he said to the Jampot.

"You can't," said she.

"I will when I'm six," said he.

"You won't," said she.

"I will when I'm seven," said he.

"You won't," said she.

"I will when I'm eight," he answered.

"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.

II

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.

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.

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