as! Mrs. Cole, looking strange in her hat and veil, as though she were
dressed up for a play, came urging them to hurry, "because Father was
waiting." Then Hamlet tied himself and his "lead" round the leg of the
table; then Mary said in her most tiresome manner, apropos of nothing at
all, "You do love me, Jeremy, don't you?" just at the moment when he was
trying to unlace Hamlet, and her lip began to tremble when he said, "Oh,
don't bother," so that he was compelled to add "Of course I do"; then
Father came running up the stairs with "Really, this is too disgraceful.
We shall miss that train!"

Then Uncle Samuel appeared, looking so queer that Jeremy was compelled
to stare at him. Jeremy had seen very little of Uncle Samuel during
these last months. He had hoped, after that wonderful adventure of the
Christmas Pantomime, that they were going to be friends, but it had not
been so. He had been away somewhere, in some strange place, painting,
and then, on his return, he had hid himself and his odd affairs away in
some corner of the house where no one saw him. He had had his life and
Jeremy had had his.

Nevertheless Jeremy was delighted to see him. It would be fun to have
him at Cow Farm with his squashy brown hat, his fat cheeks, his blue
painting smock, and his short legs with huge boots. He was different, in
some way, from all the rest of the world, and Jeremy, even at that early
stage of his education, already perceived that he could learn more from
Uncle Samuel than from any other member of the family.

Now he put his head in through the door and said: "Well, you kids,
aren't you ready? It's time!" Then, seeing Miss Jones, he said: "Good
morning," and bolted like a rabbit. Even then Jeremy noticed that he
had paint on his fingers, and that two of his waistcoat buttons were
unfastened.

Then down in the hall what confusion there was! Boxes here, there
and everywhere. Mother, Father, Aunt Amy, Uncle Samuel, and, most
interesting of all, Barbara and the new nurse. The new nurse was called
Mrs. Pateham, and she was stout, red-cheeked, and smiling. The bundle in
white called Barbara was, most happily, sleeping; but Hamlet barked at
Mrs. Pateham, and that woke Barbara, who began to cry. Then Collins came
in with his coat off, and the muscles swelling on his shoulders, and
handled the boxes as though they were paper, and the cook, and Rose, and
William, the handy-boy, and old Jordan, the gardener, and Mrs. Preston,
a lad