o this, she
had the ridiculous idea of herself adopting an animal, and she selected,
for this purpose, the kitchen cat, a dull, somnolent beast, whose sleek
black hair was furtive, and green, crooked eyes malignant. The cat
showed no signs of affection for Mary, nor could she herself honestly
care for it. When she brought it with her into the schoolroom, Hamlet
treated it in a scornful, sarcastic fashion that was worse than
outrageous attack. The cat was uncleanly, and was speedily banished back
into the kitchen. Mary's jealousy of Hamlet then grew apace, and with
that jealousy, unfortunately, her secret appreciation of his splendours.
She could not help admitting to herself that he was the most attractive
dog in the world. She would look at him from under her spectacles when
she was supposed to be reading and watch him as he rolled, kicking his
legs in the air, or lay stretched out, his black wet nose against his
paws, his eyes gleaming, his gaze fixed like the point of a dagger
raised to strike, upon some trophy, or enemy, or spoil, or sat, solemn
and pompous, like the Lord Mayor holding a meeting, as Jeremy said, up
against his master's leg, square and solid as though he were cut out
of wood, his peaked beard supercilious, his very ears at a patronising
angle; or, as Mary loved best of all to see him, when he was simply
childish, playing, as though he was still a new-found puppy, with
pieces of paper or balls of string, rolling and choking, growling,
purring, staggering and tumbling. At such times, again and again, her
impulse would be to go forward and applaud him, and then, the instinct
that she would be checked by Jeremy stayed her.

She knew very well that Jeremy realised nothing of this. Jeremy was
not given to the consideration of other people's motives--his own
independence saved him from anxiety about others. He had the English
characteristic of fancying that others must like and dislike as he
himself liked and disliked. Of sentiment he had no knowledge whatever.

As this year grew towards summer Mary had the feeling that Jeremy was
slipping away from her. She did not know what had happened to him. In
the old days he had asked her opinion about many things; he had scorned
to enjoy the long stories that she had told him--at any rate, he had
listened to them very politely--and he had asked her to suggest games or
to play with his toys. Now as the summer drew near, he did none of
these things. He was frankly im