Jeremy," said the Jampot, "or we shall never get
'ome this night, and I might have known you'd choose the longest walk
possible. Come along, Miss Mary, now--none of that dawdling."

Jeremy, in his H.M.S. Adventure's cap and rough blue navy coat, felt
himself superior to the Jampot, so he only said, "Oh, don't bother,
Nurse," and then in the same breath, "I'll run you down the hill, Mary,"
and before anyone could say a word there they were at the bottom of
Orange Street, as though they had fallen into a well. The sun was gone,
the golden horizon was gone--only the purple lights began to gather
about their feet and climb slowly the high black houses.

Mary liked this, because she now had Jeremy to herself. She began
hurriedly, so that she should lose no time:

"Shall I tell you a story, Jeremy? I've got a new one. Once upon a time
there were three little boys, and they lived in a wood, and an old witch
ate them, and the Princess who had heaps of jewellery and a white horse
and a lovely gold dress came, and it was snowing and the witch--"

This was always Mary's way. She loved to tell Jeremy interesting
stories, and he did not mind because he did not listen and could
meanwhile think his own thoughts.

His chief decision arrived at as he marched along was that he would keep
the village to himself; no one else should put their fingers into it,
arrange the orchard with the coloured trees, decide upon the names of
the Noah family, settle the village street in its final order, ring
the bell of the church, or milk the cows. He alone would do all these
things. And, so considering, he seemed to himself very like God. God,
he supposed, could pull Polchester about, root out a house here, another
there, knock the Assembly Rooms down and send a thunderbolt on to the
apple woman's umbrella. Well, then--so could he with his village. He
walked swollen with pride. He arrived at the first Island of Circe,
namely, the window of Mr. Thompson, the jeweller in Market Street,
pressed his nose to the pane, and refused to listen when the Jampot
suggested that he should move forward.

He could see the diamonds like drops of water in the sun, and the pearls
like drops of milk, and the rubies like drops of blood, but it was not
of diamonds, pearls or rubies that he was thinking--he thought only of
his village. He would ring the church bell, and then all the Noah family
should start out of the door, down the garden, up the village street...
It