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witnessing this； as did his。
During that morning he was a desperate creature； like something
caged and tortured。 Do happy middle…aged philosophers assure us that
children are light…hearted and unfeeling animals？ Let them realise
something of the agony which Jeremy suffered that day。 His whole
world had gone。
He was wicked； an outcast； his word could never be trusted again； he
would be pointed at； as the boy who had told a lie 。 。 。 And he
would not meet Dick Whittington。
The eternity of his punishment hung around his neck like an iron
chain。 Childhood's tragedies are terrible tragedies； because a child
has no sense of time； a moment's dismay is eternal； a careless word
from an elder is a lasting judgment； an instant's folly is a
lifetime's mistake。
The day dragged its weary length along； and he scarcely moved from
his corner by the fire。 He did not attempt conversation with anyone。
Once or twice the Jampot tried to penetrate behind that little mask
of anger and dismay。
〃Come； now； things aren't so bad as all that。 You be a good boy； and
go and tell your father you're sorry。 。 。〃 or 〃Well； then； Master
Jeremy； there'll be another time； I dare say； you can go to the the…
ayter。 。 。〃
But she found no response。 If there was one thing that she hated； it
was sulks。 Here they were； sulks of the worstand so； like many
wiser than herself； she covered up with a word a situation that she
did not understand； and left it at that。
The evening came on； the curtains were drawn。 Tea arrived； still
Jeremy sat there； not speaking； not raising his eyes； a condemned
creature。 Mary and Helen and Hamlet had had a wretched day。 They all
sympathised with him。
The girls went to dress。 Seven o'clock struck。 They were taken
downstairs by Nurse； who had her evening out。 Rose； the housemaid；
would sit with Master Jeremy。
Doors closed； doors opened； voices echoed； carriage…wheels were
heard。
Jeremy and Hamlet were left to themselves。 。 。
III
The last door had closed； and the sudden sense that everyone had
gone and that he might behave now as he pleased； removed the armour
in which all day he had encased himself。
He raised his head； looked about the deserted nursery； and then；
with the sudden consciousness of that other lighted and busied place
where Whittington was pursuing his adventures； he burst into tears。
He sobbed； his head down upon his arms； and his body squeezed
together so that his knees were close to his nose and his hair in
his boots。 Hamlet restored him to himself。 Instead of assisting his
master's grief； as a sentimental dog would have done； by sighing or
sniffing or howling； he yawned； stretched himself； and rolled on the
carpet。 He did not believe in giving way to feelings； and he was
surprised； and perhaps disappointed； at Jeremy's lack of restraint。
Jeremy felt this； and in a little while sobs came very slowly； and
at last were only little shudders； rather pleasant and healthy。 He
looked about him； rubbed his red nose with a hideously dirty
handkerchief； and felt immensely sleepy。
No； he would not cry any more。 Rose would shortly appear； and he did
not intend to cry before housemaids。 Nevertheless； his desolation
was supreme。 He was a liar。 He had told lies before； but they had
not been discovered； and so they were scarcely lies。 。 。 Now； in
some strange way； the publication of his lie had shown him what
truly impossible things lies were。 He had witnessed this effect upon
the general public； he had not believed that he was so wicked。 He
did not even now feel really wicked； but he saw quite clearly that
there was one world for liars and one for truthful men。 He wanted；
terribly badly； someone to tell him that he was still in the right
world。 。 。
And then； on the other side； the thought that Mary and Helen were at
this very moment witnessing the coloured history of Dick
Whittinglon； the history that he had pursued ceaselessly during all
these days and nightsthat picture of them all in the lighted
theatreonce more nearly overcame him。 But he pulled himself
together。
He sniffed； left his dirty handkerchief； and went slowly and
sorrowfully to drag out his toy village from its corner and see
whether anything could be done with it。 。 。。 After all； he was going
to school in September。 His punishment could not be quite limitless。
Hamlet had just shown his approval of this manly conduct by
strolling up and sniffing at the Noah family； who were； as usual； on
their way to church； when the door suddenly opened； and in came
Uncle Samuel。
Jeremy had forgotten his uncle； and now blinked up at him from the
floor； where he was squatting； rather ashamed of his swollen eyes
and red nose。
Uncle Samuel； however； had no time for details； he was apparently in
a hurry。 He did not wear his blue painting…smock； but was in a
comparatively clean black suit； and on the back of his head was a
squashy brown hat。
〃Come on；〃 he said； 〃or we shall be too late。〃
Jeremy choked。 〃Too late？〃 he repeated。
〃You're coming； aren't youto the Pantomime？ They sent me back for
you。〃
The room suddenly got on to its legs； like the food and the families
during Alice's feast in the 〃Looking Glass；〃 and swung round；
lurching from side to side； and causing the fire to run into the gas
and the gas to fly out of the window。
〃Idon'tunderstand；〃 Jeremy stammered。
〃Well； if you don't understand in half a shake；〃 said Uncle Samuel；
〃you won't see any of the show at all。 Go on。 Wash your face。 There
are streaks of dirt all down it as though you were a painted Indian；
stick on your cap and coat and boots and come along。〃
Exactly as one moves in sleep so Jeremy now moved。 He had once had a
wonderful dream； in which he had been at a meal that included every
thing that he had most lovedfish…cakes； sausages； ices； strawberry
jam； sponge… cake； chocolates； and scrambled eggsand he had been
able to eat； and eat； and had never been satisfied； and had never
felt sicka lovely dream。
He often thought of it。 And now in the same bewildering fashion he
found his boots and cap and coat and then； deliberately keeping from
him the thought of the Pantomime lest he should suddenly wake up； he
said：
〃I'm ready； Uncle。〃
Samuel Trefusia looked at him。
〃You're a strange kid；〃 he said； 〃you take everything so quietly
but； thank God； I don't understand children。〃
〃There's Hamlet；〃 said Jeremy； wondering whether perhaps the
dream would extend to his friend。 〃I suppose he can't come too。〃
〃No； he certainly can't；〃 said Uncle Samuel grimly。
〃And there's Rose。 She'll wonder where I've gone。〃
〃I've told her。 Don't you worry。 What a conscientious infant you
are。 Just like your father。 Anything else？〃
〃No；〃 said Jeremy breathlessly； and nearly murdered himself going
downstairs because he shut his eyes in order to continue the dream
so long as it was possible。 Then in the cold night air； grasping his
uncle's hand with a feverish hold； he stammered：
〃Is it really true？ Are we goingreally？〃
〃Of course we're going。 Come onstep out or you'll miss the Giant。〃
〃Butbutoh！〃 he drew a deep breath。 〃Then they don't think me a
liar any