e, it is only just down the
street, and Jeremy's most obedient always, as you know, Amy."

"I'm sure that Mr. Somerset is wild," said Aunt Amy.

"My dear Amy, why'?"

"You've only got to look at his face. It's 'flashy.' That's what I call
it."

"Oh, that isn't the sort of man who'll do Jeremy harm," said Mrs. Cole,
with a mother's wisdom.

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.

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.

He asked Mr. Somerset whether he was going.

"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."

"It needn't," said Jeremy, "if you stay indoors."

This amused Mr. Somerset immensely. He laughed a great deal.

"We always have to," said Jeremy, rather hurt. "We're not allowed
farther than the garden."

"Ah, but I'm older than you are," said Mr. Somerset. "It was the same
with me once."

"And what did you do? Did you go all the same?"

"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.

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." An