reached the town--so he recounted afterwards--in record time,
having run most of the way for fear the tea-things, which had
reposed six months in the window, should be snapped up by some other
conscience-stricken lacerator of a sister's feelings; and it seemed
hardly credible to find them still there, and their owner willing to
part with them for the price marked on the ticket. He paid his money
down at once, that there should be no drawing back from the bargain; and
then, as the things had to be taken out of the window and packed, and
the afternoon was yet young, he thought he might treat himself to a
taste of urban joys and la vie de Boheme. Shops came first, of course,
and he flattened his nose successively against the window with the
india-rubber balls in it, and the clock-work locomotive; and against
the barber's window, with wigs on blocks, reminding him of uncles,
and shaving-cream that looked so good to eat; and the grocer's window,
displaying more currants than the whole British population could
possibly consume without a special effort; and the window of the
bank, wherein gold was thought so little of that it was dealt about in
shovels. Next there was the market-place, with all its clamorous joys;
and when a runaway calf came down the street like a cannon-ball, Harold
felt that he had not lived in vain. The whole place was so brimful of
excitement that he had quite forgotten the why and the wherefore of his
being there, when a sight of the church clock recalled him to his better
self, and sent him flying out of the town, as he realised he had only
just time enough left to get back in. If he were after his appointed
hour, he would not only miss his high triumph, but probably would be
detected as a transgressor of bounds,--a crime before which a private
opinion on multiplication sank to nothingness. So he jogged along on his
homeward way, thinking of many things, and probably talking to himself
a good deal, as his habit was, and had covered nearly half the distance,
when suddenly--a deadly sinking in the pit of his stomach--a paralysis
of every limb--around him a world extinct of light and music--a black
sun and a reeling sky--he had forgotten the tea-things!

It was useless, it was hopeless, all was over, and nothing could now be
done; nevertheless he turned and ran back wildly, blindly, choking
with the big sobs that evoked neither pity nor comfort from a merciless
mocking world around; a stitch in his side, d