hing.

Nevertheless, when the day of the Centenary dawned--and dawned in
splendour--he was compelled, even within himself, to treat Sunday
schools with more consideration. And, in fact, for two or three days
previously the gathering force of public opinion had been changing his
attitude from stern hatred to a sort of half-hearted derision. Now, the
derision was mysteriously transformed into an inimical respect. By
what? By he knew not what. By something without a name in the air
which the mind breathes. He felt it at six o'clock, ere he arose.
Lying in bed he felt it. The day was to be a festival. The shop would
not open, nor the printing office. The work of preparing for the
removal would be suspended. The way of daily life would be quite
changed. He was free--that was, nearly free. He said to himself that
of course his excited father would expect him to witness the
celebrations and to wear his best clothes, and that was a bore. But
therein he was not quite honest. For he secretly wanted to witness the
celebrations and to wear his best clothes. His curiosity was hungry.
He admitted, what many had been asserting for weeks, that the Centenary
was going to be a big thing; and his social instinct wished him to share
in the pride of it.

"It's a grand day!" exclaimed his father, cheerful and all glossy as he
looked out upon Duck Square before breakfast, "It'll be rare and hot!"
And it was a grand day; one of the dazzling spectacular blue-and-gold
days of early summer. And Maggie was in finery. And Edwin too!
Useless for him to pretend that a big thing was not afoot--and his
father in a white waistcoat! Breakfast was positively talkative, though
the conversation was naught but a repeating and repeating of what the
arrangements were, and of what everybody had decided to do. The three
lingered over breakfast, because there was no reason to hurry. And then
even Maggie left the sitting-room without a care, for though Clara was
coming for dinner Mrs Nixon could be trusted. Mrs Nixon, if she had
time, would snatch half an hour in the afternoon to see what remained to
be seen of the show. Families must eat. And if Mrs Nixon was stopped
by duty from assisting at this Centenary, she must hope to be more at
liberty for the next.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

TWO.

At nine o'clock, in a most delicious mood of idleness, Edwin strolled
into the shop. His father ha