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greatly preferred not to be touched； but there it was； she could not
help herself。 She did not know that； in all her life before； anyone
had ever fought for her； and that now of all champions in the world
fate should have chosen Jeremy； who was； she had supposed； her
enemynever her defender！
And that horrid child of the Deanshe had always disliked him； with
his long yellow neck and watery eyes！ How dared he say such things
about her！ He had always been rude to her。 She remembered once
Jeremy arrived； washed； brushed； and obstinate。 He would； of course；
be scolded to within an inch of his life； and he did not care。 He
had seen the Dean's Ernest howling and kicking on the ground； he had
soiled his straw hat for him； dirtied his stiff white collar for
him； and made his nose bleed。 He glared at his aunt （one eye was
rapidly disappearing beneath a blue bruise）； and he was proud；
triumphant； and very tired。
Farewells were madeagain many apologies〃Nothing； I assure you；
nothing。 Boys will be boys； I know；〃 from Miss Maddison。
Then they were seated in the jingle； Jeremy next to Aunt Amy；
awaiting his scolding。 It did not come。 Aunt Amy tried； she knew
what she should say。 She should be very angry； disgusted； ashamed。
She could not be any of these things。 That horrid boy had insulted
her。 She was touched and proud as she had never been touched and
proud in her life before。
Jeremy waited； and then as nothing came his weariness grew upon him。
As the old fat pony jogged along； as the evening colours of street
and sky danced before him； sleep came nearer and nearer。
He nodded； recovered； nodded and nodded again。 His body pressed
closer to Aunt Amy's； leaned against her。 His head rested upon her
shoulder。
After a moment's pause she put her arm round himso； holding him；
she stared； defiantly and crossly； upon the world。
CHAPTER VII
RELIGION
I
Always in after years Jeremy remembered that party of Miss
Maddison's； not because it had been there that he had won his first
fight； but for the deeper reason that from that day his life
received a new colour； woven into the texture of it； even now when
he thinks of those hours that followed Miss Maddison's party he
catches his breath and glances around him to see whether everything
is safe。 The children； on arriving home that evening； found that
their father and mother had already returned from Drymouth。 Jeremy；
sleepy though he was； rushed to his mother； held her hand； explained
his black eye； and then suddenly； in a way that he had； fell asleep；
there as he was； and had to be carried up to bed。
When he awoke next morning his first thought was of his mother。 He
did not know why； she was so definitely part of the background of
his daily life that he felt too sure of her continual and abiding
presence to need deliberate thought of her。 But this morning he
wanted to get up quickly and find her。 Perhaps her absence had made
him feel more insecure； but there had also been something that
night； something in her face； something in the touch of her hand。
And the other thing that he realised was that summer had truly come。
He knew at once that hot smell that pressed even through the closed
window…panes of his room； the bars and squares of light on the floor
when he jumped out of bed and stood upon them seemed to burn the
soles of his feet； and the rays of light on the ceiling quivered as
only summer sunlight can quiver。 The two windows of his bedroom
looked back behind Polchester over fields and hedges to a dim purple
line of wood。 A tiny stream ran through the first two fields； and
this little river was shining now with a white hot light that had
yet the breeze of the morning ruffling it。 He ran to his window and
opened it。 Beyond the wall that bordered their house was a little
brown path； and down this path； even as he watched； a company of
cows were slowly wandering along。 Already they were flapping their
ears lazily in anticipation of the flies； and the boy who was
driving them was whistling as one only whistles on a summer morning。
He could see the buttercups； too； in the nearest field； they seemed
to have sprung to life in the space of a night。 Someone was pulling
the rope of a well somewhere and someone else was pouring water out
upon some stone court。 Even as he watched； a bee came blundering up
to his window； hesitated for a moment； and then went whirring off
again； and through all the sun and glitter and the sparkle of the
little river there was a scent of pinks； and mignonette； and even；
although it could not really be so； of the gorse。 The sky was a pale
white blue； so pale that it was scarcely any colour at all and a few
puffs of clouds； dead white like the purest smoke； hovered in
dancing procession； above the purple wood。 The sun burnt upon his
bare feet and his head and his hands。
This coming of summer meant so much more to him than merely the
immediate joy of itit meant Rafiel and Cow Farm and the Cove and
green pools with crabs in them； and shrimping and paddling and
riding home in the evening on haycarts； and drinking milk out of tin
cans； and cows and small pigs； and peeling sticks and apples； and
collecting shells； and fishermen's nets； and sandwiches； and saffron
buns mixed with sand； and hot ginger beer； and one's ears peeling
with the sun； and church on Sunday with the Rafiel sheep cropping
the grass just outside the church door； and Dick Marriott； the
fisherman； and slipping along over the green water； trailing one's
fingers in the water； in his boat； and fishy smells by the sea…wall；
and red masses of dog…fish on the pier； and the still cool feel of
the farmhouse sheets just after getting into bedall these things
and a thousand more the coming of summer meant to Jeremy。
But this morning he did not feel his customary joy。 Closing his
window and dressing slowly； he wondered what was the matter。 What
could it be？ It was not his eyecertainly it was a funny colour
this morning and it hurt when you touched it； but he was proud of
that。 No； it was not his eye。 And it was not the dog； who came into
his room； after scratching on the door； and made his usual morning
pretence of having come for any other purpose than to see his friend
and master； first looking under the bed； then going up to the window
pretending to gaze out of it （which he could not do）； barking； then
rolling on a square of sunlit carpet； and； after that； lying on his
back； his legs out stiff； his ridiculous 〃Imperial〃 pointed and
ironical； then suddenly turning； with a twist on his legs； rushing
at last up to Jeremy； barking at him； laughing at him； licking him；
and even biting his stockingslast of all seizing a bedroom
slipper and rushing wildly into the schoolroom with it。
No； there was nothing the matter with Hamlet。 Nor was there anything
the matter with Miss Jones； free； happily； from her customary
neuralgia； and delighted with the new number of the Church Times。
Nor was it the breakfast； which to…day included bacon and strawberry
jam。 Nor； finally； was it Mary or Helen； who； pleased with the
summer weather （and Mary additionally pleased with the virtues of
Lance as minu