ey 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.

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...

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."

Mary arrived and swung herself up on to the window-seat.

"It's the 'Looking Glass' one. I hope you don't mind," she said
apprehensively.

"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.

"It's a nice bit about the shop," said Mary. Jeremy said nothing, so she
began. She started at a run:

"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--'"

"Wrapped?" asked Jeremy.

"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--'"

"'Looked again she couldn't'?" asked Jeremy. "It should be, 'she
couldn't look again.'"

"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--'"

"I can't either," said Jeremy crossly. "It would be better perhaps if I
read it myself."