jeremy-第3章

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he　does　not　paint　strange　women；　he　prefers　flowers　and　cows　and　the
Polchester　woods；　although　anything　less　like　cows；　flowers　and
woods；　Mrs。　Sampson；　wife　of　the　Dean；　who　once　had　a　water…colour
in　the　Academy；　says　she　has　never　seen。　Samuel　Trefusis　is　a
failure；　and；　what　is　truly　awful；　he　does　not　mind；　nobody　buys　his
pictures　and　he　does　not　care；　and；　worst　taste　of　all；　he　laughs　at
his　relations；　although　he　lives　on　them。　Nothing　further　need　be
said。

To　Helen；　Mary　and　Jeremy　he　had　always　been　a　fascinating　object；
although　they　realised；　with　that　sharp　worldly　wisdom　to　be　found
in　all　infants　of　tender　years；　that　he　was　a　failure；　a　dirty　man；
and　disliked　children。　He　very　rarely　spoke　to　them；　was　once　quite
wildly　enraged　when　Mary　was　discovered　licking　his　paints。　（It　was
the　paints　he　seemed　anxious　about；　not　in　the　least　the　poor　little
thing's　health；　as　his　sister　Amy　said）；　and　had　publicly　been　heard
to　say　that　his　brother…in…law　had　only　got　the　children　he
deserved。

Nevertheless　Jeremy　had　always　been　interested　in　him。　He　liked　his
fat　round　shape；　his　rough；　untidy　grey　hair；　his　scarlet　slippers；
his　blue　tam…o'…shanter；　the　smudges　of　paint　sometimes　to　be
discovered　on　his　cheeks；　and　the　jingling　noises　he　made　in　his
pocket　with　his　money。　He　was　certainly　more　fun　than　Aunt　Amy。

There；　then；　they　all　were　with　their　presents　and　their　birthday
faces。

〃Shall　I　undo　them　for　you；　darling？〃　of　course　said　Aunt　Amy。
Jeremy　shook　his　head　（he　did　not　say　what　he　thought　of　her）　and
continued　to　tug　at　the　string。　He　was　given　a　large　pair　of
scissors。　He　received　（from　Father）　a　silver　watch；　（from　Mother）　a
paint…box；　a　dark　blue　and　gold　prayer　book　with　a　thick　squashy
leather　cover　（from　Aunt　Amy）。

He　was　in　an　ecstasy。　How　he　had　longed　for　a　watch；　just　such　a
turnip…shaped　one；　and　a　paint…box。　What　colours　he　could　make！　Even
Aunt　Amy's　prayer　book　was　something；　with　its　squashy　cover　and
silk　marker　（only　why　did　Aunt　Amy　never　give　him　anything
sensible？）。　He　stood　there；　his　face　flushed；　his　eyes　sparkling；
the　watch　in　one　hand　and　the　paint…box　in　the　other。　Remarks　were
heard　like：　〃You　mustn't　poke　it　with；　your　finger；　Jerry　darling；
or　you'll　break　the　hands　off〃；　and　〃I　thought　he'd；　better　have　the
square　sort；　and　not　the　tubes。　They're　so　squashy〃；　and　〃You'll　be
able　to　learn　your　Collect　so　easily　with　that　big　print；　Jerry
dear。　Very　kind　of　you；　Amy。〃

Meanwhile　he　was　aware　that　Uncle　Samuel　had　given　him　nothing。
There　was　a　little　thick　catch　of　disappointment　in　his　throat；　not
because　he　wanted　a　present；　but　because　he　liked　Uncle　Samuel。
Suddenly；　from　somewhere　behind　him　his　uncle　said：　〃Shut　your　eyes；
Jerry。　Don't　open　them　until　I　tell　you〃then　rather　crossly；　〃No；
Amy；　leave　me　alone。　I　know　what　I'm　about；　thank　you。〃

Jeremy　shut　his　eyes　tight。　He　closed　them　so　that　the　eyelids
seemed　to　turn　right　inwards　and　red　lights　flashed。　He　stood　there
for　at　least　a　century；　all　in　darkness；　no　one　saying　anything　save
that　once　Mary　cried　〃Oh！〃　and　clapped　her　hands；　which　same　cry
excited　him　to　such　a　pitch　that　he　would　have　dug　his　nails　into
his　hands　had　he　not　so　consistently　in　the　past　bitten　them　that
there　were　no　nails　with　which　to　dig。　He　waited。　He　waited。　He
waited。　He　was　not　eight；　he　was　eighty　when　at　last　Uncle　Samuel
said；　〃Now　you　may　look。〃

He　opened　his　eyes　and　turned；　for　a　moment　the　nursery；　too；　rocked
in　the　unfamiliar　light。　Then　he　saw。　On　the　middle　of　the　nursery
carpet　was　a　village；　a　real　village；　six　houses　with　red　roofs；
green　windows　and　white　porches；　a　church　with　a　tower　and　a　tiny
bell；　an　orchard　with　flowers　on　the　fruit　trees；　a　green　lawn；　a
street　with　a　butcher's　shop；　a　post　office；　and　a　grocer's。
Villager　Noah；　Mrs。　Noah　and　the　little　Noahs；　a　field　with　cows；
horses；　dogs；　a　farm　with　chickens　and　even　two　pigs。　。　。

He　stood；　he　stared；　he　drew　a　deep　breath。

〃It　comes　all　the　way　from　Germany；〃　said　Aunt　Amy；　who　always　made
things　uninteresting　if　she　possibly　could。

There　was　much　delighted　talk。　Jeremy　said　nothing。　But　Uncle　Samuel
understood。

〃Glad　you　like　it；〃　he　said；　and　left　the　room。

〃Aren't　you　pleased　？〃　said　Helen。

Jeremy　still　said　nothing。

〃Sausages。　Sausages！〃　cried　Mary；　as　Gladys；　grinning；　entered　with
a　dish　of　a　lovely　and　pleasant　smell。　But　Jeremy　did　not　turn。　He
simply　stood　therestaring。




III


It　is　of　the　essence　of　birthdays　that　they　cannot　maintain
throughout　a　long　day　the　glorious　character　of　their　early　dawning。
In　Polchester　thirty　years　ago　there　were　no　cinematographs；　no
theatre　save　for　an　occasional　amateur　performance　at　the　Assembly
Rooms　and；　once　and　again；　a　magic…lantern　show。　On　this　particular
day；　moreover；　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Cole　were　immensely　busied　with
preparations　for　some　parochial　tea。　Miss　Trefusis　had　calls　to
make；　and；　of　course；　Uncle　Samuel　was　invisible。　The　Birthday　then
suddenly　became　no　longer　a　birthday　but　an　ordinary　daywith　an
extraordinary　standard。　This　is　why　so　many　birthdays　end　in　tears。

But　Jeremy；　as　was　usual　with　him；　took　everything　quietly。　He　might
cry　aloud　about　such　an　affair　as　the　conquest　of　the　wicker　chair
because　that　did　not　deeply　matter　to　him；　but　about　the　real　things
he　was　silent。　The　village　was　one　of　the　real　things；　during　all
the　morning　he　remained　shut　up　in　his　soul　with　it；　the　wide　world
closed　off　from　them　by　many　muffled　doors。　How　had　Uncle　Samuel
known　that　he　had　deep　in　his　own　inside；　so　deep　that　he　had　not
mentioned　it　even　to　himself；　wanted　something　just　like　this？
Thirty　years　ago　there　were　none　of　the　presents　that　there　are　for
children　nowno　wonderful　railways　that　run　round　the　nursery　from
Monte　Carlo　to　Paris　with　all　the　stations　marked；　no　dolls　that　are
so　like　fashionable　women　that　you　are　given　a　manicure　set　with
them　to　keep　their　nails　tidy；　no　miniature　motor…cars　that　run　of
themselves　and　go　for　miles　round　the　floor　without　being　wound　up。
Jeremy　knew　none　of　these　things；　and　was　the　happier　that　he　did
not。　To　such　a　boy　such　a　village　was　a　miracle。　。　。　。　It　had　not
come　from　Germany；　as　Aunt　Amy　said；　but　from　heaven。　But　it　was
even　more　of　Uncle　Samuel　than　the　village　that　he　was　thinking。
When　they　startedHelen；　Mary　and　he　in　charge　of　the　Jampotupon
their　afternoon　walk；　he　was　still　asking　himself　the　same
questions。　How　had　Uncle　Samuel　known　so　exactly？　Had　it　been　a
great　trouble　to　bring　from　so　far　away？　Had　Uncle　Samuel　thought　it
bad　of　him　not　to　thank　him？

He　was　lost　in　such　considerations　when　the　Jampot　inquired　of　him
the　way　that　their　walk　should　takeit　was　his　choice　because　it
was　his　Birthday。　He　had　no　choice。　There　was　one　walk　that　far
exceeded　all　others　in　glory；　straight　down　Orange　Street；　straight
again　through　the　Market；　past　the　Assembly　Rooms　and　the　Town　Hall；
past　the　flower　and　fruit　stalls；　and　the　old　banana　woman　under　the
green　umbrella　and　the　toy　stall　with　coloured　balloons；　the　china
dogs　and　the　nodding　donkeys；　up　the　High　Street；　into　the　cobble…
stones　of　the　Close；　whence　one　could　look　down；　between　the　houses
on　to　the　orchards；　round　the　Cathedral　with　the　meadows；　Pol　Meads
sloping　down　to　the　river；　so　through　Orchard　Lane　into　Orange
Street　once　again。

Such　a　walk　combined　every　magic　and　delight　known　to　the　heart　of
man；　but　it　was　not　generally　allowed；　because　Jeremy　would　drag
past　the　shops；　the　stalls　in　the　Market　Place　and　the　walk　behind
the　Cathedral；　whence　one　might　sometimes　see　boats　on　the　river；
sheep　and　cows　in　the　meads；　and；　in　their　proper　season；　delight　of
delightslambs。

They　set　out。　。　。

Thirty　years　ago　the　winter　weather　in　Polchester　was　wonderful。
Now；　of　course；　there　are　no　hard　winters；　no　frost；　no　snow；　no
waits；　no　snowmen；　and　no　skating　on　the　Pol。　Then　there　were　all
those　things。　To…day　was　of　a　hard；　glittering　frost；　the　sun；　like
a　round；　red　lacquer　tray；　fell　heavily；　slowly　through　a　faint　pale
sky　that　was　not　strong　enough　to　sustain　it。　The　air　had　the　cold；
sweet　twang　of　peppermints　in　the　throat。　Polchester　was　a　painted
town　upon　a　blue　screen；　the　Cathedral　towers　purple　against　the
sky；　the　air　was　scented　with　burning　leaves；　and　cries　from　the
town　rose　up　clear　and　hard；　lingering　and　falling　like　notes　of
music。　Somewhere　they　were　playing　football；　and　the　shouting　was
distant　and　regular　like　the　tramp　of　armed　men。　〃Three〃　struck　the
Cathedral　clock；　as　though　it　were　calling　〃Open　Sesame。〃　Other
lesser　clocks　repeated　the　challenge　cry　through　the　town。　〃Woppley…
…WoppleyWhy！〃　sung　the　man　who　was　selling　skins　down　Orange
Street。　The　sky；　turning　slowly　from　blue　to　gold；　shone
mysteriously　through　the　glass　of　the　street　lamps；　and　the　sun
began　to　wrap　itself　in　tints　of　purple　and　crocus　and　iris。

〃WoppleyWoppleyWhy！〃　screamed　the　skin…man　suddenly　appearing　at
the　top　of　the　street。

〃Now　'urry；　Master　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；　nownone　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　goneonly　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；　thenso　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