ogress read to him on Sundays.
He envied "Christian," who not only usually enjoyed the benefit of some
reassuring companion, such as "Mr. Interpreter," or "Mr. Greatheart,"
to help him on his road, but had also been expressly told, "Keep in the
midst of the path, and no harm shall come to thee." This was distinctly
comforting, and Christian enjoyed another conspicuous advantage. All
the lions he encountered in the course of his journey were chained up,
and could not reach him provided he adhered to the Narrow Way. The
little boy thought seriously of tying a rolled-up tablecloth to his
back to represent Christian's pack; in his white suit, he might perhaps
then pass for a pilgrim, and the strip of carpet down the centre of the
passage would make an admirable Narrow Way, but it all depended on
whether the crocodile, bears, and hunchbacks knew, and would observe
the rules of the game. It was most improbable that the crocodile had
ever had the Pilgrim's Progress read to him in his youth, and he might
not understand that the carpet representing the Narrow Way was
inviolable territory. Again, the bears might make their spring before
they realised that, strictly speaking, they ought to consider
themselves chained up. The ferocious little hunchbacks were clearly
past praying for; nothing would give them a sense of the most
elementary decency. On the whole, the safest plan seemed to be, on
reaching the foot of the stairs, to keep an eye on the distant lamp and
to run to it as fast as short legs and small feet could carry one. Once
safe under its friendly beams, panting breath could be recovered, and
the necessary stolid look assumed before entering the hall.

There was another voyage, rich in its promise of ultimate rewards, but
so perilous that it would only be undertaken under escort. That was to
the housekeeper's room through a maze of basement passages. On the road
two fiercely-gleaming roaring pits of fire had to be encountered.
Grown-ups said this was the furnace that heated the house, but the
little boy had his own ideas on the subject. Every Sunday his nurse
used to read to him out of a little devotional book, much in vogue in
the "sixties," called The Peep of Day, a book with the most terrifying
pictures. One Sunday evening, so it is said, the little boy's mother
came into the nursery to find him listening in rapt attention to what
his nurse was reading him.

"Emery is reading to me out of a good book," explained the s