As I have said,he had never hated anyone before,and he was surprised at the glow of virtuous triumph that this new emotion spread over his body.He positively loved to hate Aunt Amy,and as Parkes,the pony,slowly toiled up the hill to the Cathedral,he sat stiff and proud with an almost humorous anger.Then,as they turned over the hot shining cobbles into the Close and saw the green trees swimming in the sun,he turned his mind to the party.What games would they play?Who would be there?What would there be for tea ?
He felt creeping over him the stiff shyness that always comes when one is approaching a party,and he wished that the first handshaking and the first plunge into the stares of the critical guests might be over.But he did not really care.His hatred of Aunt Amy braced him up;when one was capable of so fine and manly an emotion as this hatred,one need not bother about fellow-guests.Then the jingle stopped outside a house immediately opposite the great west-end door of the Cathedral;in the little hall Miss Maddison was standing,and from the glittering garden behind her the sun struck through the house into the shadowed street.
Jeremy's public manners were,when he pleased,quite beautiful--"the true,old-fashioned courtesy,"gushing friends of the Cole family used to say.He was preparing to be very polite now,when suddenly the voice of the Dean's Ernest ordering people about in the garden struck upon his ear.He had not seen the Dean's Ernest for nearly three months,for the very good reason that that gentleman had been experiencing his first term at his private school.Last year young Ernest and Jeremy had been,on the whole,friendly,although Ernest,who was nine,and strong for his age,had always patronised.And now?Jeremy longed to inform his friend that he also shortly would proceed to school,that in another six months'time there would be practically no difference between them.Nevertheless,at the present moment there was a difference.Ernest had a whole term to his credit.
New arrivals gently insinuated the Cole family into the garden.
Helen,proud and cold,Mary,blinking and nervous,stood pressed close together whilst other little girls stared and giggled,moved forward and then backward again,until suddenly Canon Lasker's Emily,who was fifteen and had such long legs that she was known as "the Giraffe,"came up and said:"Isn't it hot!Do you play croquet?
Please-do!I'll have--the--blue ball."And the Coles were initiated.
Meanwhile,Aunt Amy had said:"Now,Jeremy,dear,run about and make friends."Which so deeply infuriated him that he choked.Oh!
supposing the Dean's Ernest had heard her!
And he had!A mocking voice behind him said:"Now,Jeremy,dear--"Jeremy turned round and beheld the Dean's Ernest mockingly waiting his retort.And he could not retort.No words would come,and he could only stand there,his cheeks flushed,aware that Ernest had grown and grown during those three months,that he wore a straw hat with a black-and-red ribbon upon it,that round his long ugly neck was a stiff white collar,and across his waistcoat a thick silver watch-chain.
"Hallo!"said Jeremy.
"Hallo!"said the new Ernest scornfully.
A long pause.
Then Ernest,turning on his heel,said to someone behind him:"Let's get away from all these girls!"The tears burnt in Jeremy's eyes,hot and salt.He clenched his fists and gazed upon a garden that swam in a mist of tears and sunlight.He felt a sudden strange impulse of family affection.He would like to have gathered behind him his father and mother,Mary,Helen,Hamlet,Uncle Samuel--yes,and even Aunt Amy,arid to have advanced not only upon Ernest,but upon the whole Dean's family.It would have given him great pleasure to have set his teeth into the fat legs of the Dean himself;he would gladly have torn the hat from the head of Mrs.Dean.Upon Ernest there was no torture he would not employ.
He would get even;he resolved that before he left that house he would have his revenge.
Kind Miss Maddison,tripping along and seeing him as a pathetic little boy in a sailor suit without guile or malice,swept him into an "I spy"party composed for the most part of small girls who fell down and cried and said they would go home.
Jeremy,hiding behind a tree,watched the thin back of Ernest as it lifted itself autocratically above two small boys who looked up to him with saucer-eyes.Ernest was obviously talking about his school.
Jeremy,lost in the contemplation of his vengeance,forgot his game,and was taken prisoner with the greatest of ease.He did not care.
The afternoon was spoilt for him.He was not even hungry.Why could he not go to school to-morrow,and then challenge Ernest to combat?
But he might challenge Ernest without going to school.He had never fought a real fight,but the sight of his enemy's thin,peaky body was encouraging.
"Now,Jeremy,dear,"said Miss Maddison,"it's your turn to hide."Soon they all went in to tea.Everyone was thoroughly at home by this time,and screamed and shouted quite in the most natural manner in the world.The long table stretched down the whole room,almost from wall to wall;the sunlight played in pools and splashes upon the carpet and the flowers and the pictures.There was every sort of thing to eat--thin bread-and-butter rolled up into little curly sandwiches,little cakes and big cakes,seed cakes and sugar cakes,and,of course,saffron buns,jam in little shining dishes,and hot buttered toast so buttery that,it dripped on to your fingers.
