jeremy-第49节

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anxious　to　do　what　was　right；　but　unable　to　touch　his　son　at　all。

Jeremy　went　up　to　his　room。　He　opened　his　window　and　looked　out。　He
could　smell　the　burnt　leaves　of　the　bonfire。　There　was　no　flame　now；
but　he　fancied　that　he　could　see　a　white　shadow　where　it　had　been。
Then；　on　the　wind；　came　the　music　of　the　Fair。

〃TumteTum　。　。　。　TumteTum　。　。　。　WhirrWhirrWhirrBang
Bang。〃

Somewhere　an　owl　cried；　and　then　another　owl　answered。

He　rubbed　his　sore　hand　against　his　trousers；　then；　thinking　of　his
black　horse；　he　smiled。

He　was　a　free　man。　In　a　week　he　would　go　to　school；　then　he　would　go
to　College；　then　he　would　be　a　horsetrainer。

He　was　in　bed；　faintly　into　the　dark　room；　stole　the　scent　of　the
bonfire　and　the　noise　of　the　Fair。

〃Tumte…Tum　。　。　。　TumteTum　。　。　。〃

He　was　asleep；　riding　on　a　giant　charger　across　boundless　plains。




CHAPTER　XII

HAMLET　WAITS


I


The　last　day！　Jeremy；　suddenly　waking；　realised　this　with　a
confusion　of　feeling　as　though　he　were　sentenced　to　the　dentist's；
but；　oddly　enough；　looked　forward　to　his　visit。　Going　to　school；　one
had；　of　course；　long　ago　perceived；　was　a　mixed　business；　but　the
balance　was　now　greatly　to　the　good。　It　was　a　step　in　the　right
direction　towards　liberty　and　freedom。　Thank　Heaven！

No　one　in　the　family　was　likely　to　make　a　fuss　about　his　departure；
unless　it　were　possibly　Mary；　and　she　had；　of　late；　kept　very　much
to　herself　and　worried　him　scarcely　at　all。　Indeed；　he　felt　guilty
about　Mary。　He　was　fond　of　her；　really　。　。　。　Funny　kid　。　。　。　If　only
she　didn't　make　fusses！

Yes；　it　was　unlike　his　family　to　make　fusses。　He　realised　that　very
plainly　to…day。　Everyone　went　about　his　or　her　daily　business　with
no　implication　whatever　that　something　extraordinary　was　going　to
happen　tomorrow。　Perhaps　they　were　all　secretly　relieved　that　he　was
off。　He　had　been；　he　knew；　something　of　a　failure　during　these　last
months；　one　trouble　after　another；　the　scandal　of　his　visit　to　the
Fair　as　the　grand　finale。　He　felt　that　there　was；　in　some　way；　some
injustice　in　all　this。　He　had　no　desire　to　be　bad　or　rebelliouson
the　contrary　he　wished　to　do　all　that　his　elders　ordered　himbut　he
could　not　prevent　the　rising　of　his　own　individuality；　which　showed
him　quite　clearly　whether　he　should　do　a　thing　or　no。　It　was　as
though　something　inside　him　pushed　him　。　。　。　whereas　they；　all　of
them；　only　checked　him。

He　loved　his　mother　best；　and　he　was　secretly　disappointed　to　find
how　ordinary　an　affair　his　departure　was　to　her。　He　realised；　with　a
perception　that　was　beyond　his　years；　that　the　infant　Barbara　was
now　rapidly　occupying　the　position；　as　centre　of　the　family；　that　he
had　held。　Barbara；　everyone　declared；　was　a　charming　babythe　house
revolved；　to　some　extent；　round　Barbara。　But；　then　again；　this
isolation　was　entirely　his　own　fault。　During　the　summer　holidays　he
had　gone　his　own　way；　and　had　wanted　no　one　but　Hamlet　as　his
companion。　He　had　no　right　to　complain。

After　breakfast　he　did　not　know　quite　what　to　do；　and　it　was
obvious；　also；　that　no　one　knew　quite　what　to　do　with　him。

Mrs。　Cole　said：　〃Jeremy；　dear；　Ponting　has　never　sent　that　letter
paper　and　envelopes　that　he　promised；　and　Father　must　have　them　to…
day。　Would　you　go　down　and　bring　them　back　with　you？　Father　will
write　a　note。〃

No　one　seemed　to　realise　what　an　abysmal　change　from　earlier
conditions　this　casual　sentence　marked。　That　he　should　go　to
Footing's；　which　was　on　the　farther　side　of　the　town；　alone　and
unattended；　seemed　to　no　one　peculiar；　and　yet；　only　six　months　ago；
a　walk　without　Miss　Jones　was　undreamt　of；　and；　before　her；　no　more
than　nine　months　back；　there　was　the　Jampot！　He　was　delighted　to　go；
but；　of　course；　he　did　not　show　his　delight。

All　he　said　was：　〃Yes；　Mother。〃

He　was　in　his　new　clothes：　stiff　black　jacket；　black　knickerbockers；
black　stockings；　black　boots。　No　more　navy　suits　with　white　braid
and　whistles！　Perhaps　he　would　see　the　Dean's　Ernest。　It　was　his
most　urgent　desire！

He　started　off；　accompanied　by　a　barking；　bounding　Hamlet；　who
showed　no　perception　of　the　calamity　that　threatened　to　tumble　upon
him。　For　Jeremy；　leaving　Hamlet　was　a　dreadful　affair。　In　three
months　a　dog　can　change　more　swiftly　than　a　human　being；　and　Hamlet；
although　not　a　supremely　greedy　dog；　had　shown　of　late　increasing
signs　of　a　love　of　good　food；　and　a　regrettable　tendency　to　fawn
upon　the　giver　of　the　same；　even　when　it　was　Aunt　Amy。　Jeremy　had
checked　this　tendency；　and　had　issued　punishments　when　necessary；
and　Hamlet　had　accepted　the　same　without　a　murmur。　So　long　as　Jeremy
was　there　Hamlet's　character　was　secure；　but　now；　during　this　long
absence；　anything　might　happen。　There　was　no　one　to　whom　Jeremy
might　leave　him；　no　one　who　had　the　slightest　idea　what　a　dog　should
do　and　what　he　should　not。

These　melancholy　thoughts　filled　Jeremy's　mind　when　he　started　upon
his　walk；　but　soon　he　was　absorbed　by　his　surroundings。　He　realised
even　more　drastically　than　the　facts　warranted　that　he　was　making
his　farewell　to　the　town。

He　was　not　making　his　final　farewell；　he　would　not　make　that　until
his　death；　and；　perhaps；　not　then；　but　he　was　making　farewell　to
some　of　his　sense　of　his　wonder　in　it；　only　not；　thank　God；　to　the
sense　of　wonder　itself！

As　he　went　he　met　the　daily　figures　of　all　his　walks；　and　he　could
not　help　but　speculate　on　their　realisation　of　the　great　change　that
was　coming　to　him。　It　was　absurd　to　suppose　that　they　were　saying　to
themselves：　〃Ah；　there's　young　Jeremy　Cole！　He's　off　to　school
tomorrow。　I　wonder　what　he　feels　about　it！　。　。　。〃　No；　that　was
incredible；　and　yet　they　must　realise　something　of　the　adventure。

He；　on　his　part；　stared　at　them　with　a　new　interest。　They　had　before
shared　in　the　inevitable　background　without　individuality。　But　now
that　he　was　leaving　them；　and　they　would　grow；　as　it　were；　without
his　permission；　he　was　forced　to　grant　them　independence。　At　the
bottom　of　Orange　Street　he　met　Mr。　Dawson；　the　Cathedral　Organist；
he　was　a　little；　plump　man；　in　a　very　neat　grey　suit；　a　shiny　top
hat；　and　very　small　spats。　He　was　always　dressed　in　the　same
fashion；　and　carried　a　black　music…case　under　his　arm。　He　had　an
eternal　interest　for　Jeremy　because；　whenever　he　was　mentioned；　the
phrase　was：　〃Poor　little　Mr。　Dawson！〃　Why　he　was　to　be　pitied　Jeremy
did　not　know。　He　looked　spruce　and　bright　enough；　and　generally
whistled　to　himself　as　he　walked；　but　〃poor〃　was　an　exciting
adjective；　and　Jeremy；　when　he　passed　him；　felt　a　little　shudder　of
drama　run　down　his　spine。

Outside　Poole's　bookshop　there　was；　of　course；　Mr。　Mockridge。　Mr。
Mockridge　was　the　poorest　of　the　Canons；　so　poor；　that　it　had　become
a　proverb　in　the　place：　〃As　poor　as　Mr。　Mockridge〃；　and　also　another
proverb；　I　am　afraid；　from　the　same　source：　〃As　dirty　as　Mr。
Mockridge。〃　He　was　a　very　long；　thin　man；　with　a　big；　pointing　nose；
coloured　red；　not　from　indigestion；　and　most　certainly　not　from
drink；　but　simply；　I　think；　because　the　wind　caught　it。　His　passion
was　for　books；　and　he　might　be　seen　every　afternoon；　between　three
and　four　o'clock；　bending　over　Poole's　2d。　box；　a　dirty　handkerchief
flying　out　of　the　tail　of　his　long；　black　coat；　and　a　green；　bulging
umbrella；　pointing　outwards；　under　his　arm；　to　the　infinite　danger
of　all　the　passers…by。　He　was　so　commonplace　a　figure　to　Jeremy
that；　on　ordinary　days；　he　was　shrouded　by　an　invisibility　of
tradition。　But；　to…day；　he　was　fresh　and　strange。　〃He'll　be　here　to…
morrow　poking　his　nose　into　that　box　just　the　same；　and　I
shall　be〃

Then；　on　the　outskirts　of　the　Market　Place；　Jeremy　paused　and　looked
about　him。　There　was　all　the　usual　business　of　the　placethe　wooden
trestles　with　the　flowerpots；　the　apple…woman　under　her　umbrella；
the　empty　cattle…pens；　where　the　cows　and　sheep　stood　on　market
days；　and　behind　them　the　dark；　vaulted　arches　of　the　actual　market；
now　empty　and　deserted。　Bathed　in　sunlight　it　lay　very　quiet　and
still；　some　pigeons　pecking　at　grain；　a　dog　or　two；　and　children
playing　round　the　empty　cattle…stalls。　From　the　hill　above　the
square　the　Cathedral　boomed　the　hour；　and　all　the　pigeons　rose　in　a
flight；　hovered；　then　slowly　settled　again。

Jeremy　sighed；　and；　with　a　strange　pain　at　his　heart　that　he　could
not　analyse；　moved　up　the　hill。　The　High　Street　is；　of　course；　the
West　End　of　Polchester；　and　in　the　morning；　between　ten　and　one；
every　lady　in　the　town　may　be　seen　at　her　shopping。　It　had　always
been　the　ambition　of　the　Cole　children　to　be　taken　for　their　walk　up
High　Street　in　the　morning；　but　it　was　an　ambition　very　rarely
gratified；　because　they　stopped　so　often　and　were　always　in
everyone's　way。　And　here　was　Jeremy；　at　this　gay　hour；　a　trolling　up
the　High　Street　all　by　himself　he　lifted　his　head；　pushed　out　his
chest；　and　looked　the　world　in　the　face。　He　might　meet　the　Dean's
Ernest　at　any　moment。　The　first　people　whom　he　saw　were　the　Misses
Craggalways　known；　of　course；　as　〃The　Cragg　girls。〃　They　were；
perhaps；　Polchester's　most　constant　and　obvious　feature。　There　were
four　of　them；　all　as　yet　unmarried；　all　with　brown…red　faces　and
hard　straw　hats；　short　s