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 rebellious--on the contrary he wished to do all that his elders ordered him--but 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 baby--the 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.
