jeremy-第44部分

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day！〃

〃I'm　going；〃　Mary　said　again；　and　waited。

Jeremy　coloured；　looked　as　though　he　would　say　something；　then；　in
silence；　presented　a　very　grimy　cheek。　〃Good…night；〃　he　said；　with
an　air　of　intense　relief。

〃Good…night；〃　she　said；　kissing　him。

She　closed　the　door　behind　her。　She　knew　that　the　worst　had
happened。　He　had　passed　away；　utterly　beyond　her　company；　her　world；
her　interests。　She　crept　along　to　her　room；　and　there；　with　a
determination　and　a　strength　rare　in　a　child　so　young　and　so
undisciplined；　faced　her　loneliness。




CHAPTER　XI

THE　MERRY…GO…ROUND


I


The　holidays　were　over。　The　Coles　were　once　more　back　in　Polchester；
and　the　most　exciting　period　of　Jeremy's　life　had　begun。　So　at　any
rate　he　felt　it。　It　might　be　that　in　later　years　there　would　be　new
exciting　events；　lion…hunting；　for　instance；　or　a　war；　or　the
tracking　of　niggers　in　the　heart　of　Africahe　would　be　ready　for
them　when　they　camebut　these　last　weeks　before　his　first　departure
for　school　offered　him　the　prospect　of　the　first　real　independence
of　his　life。　There　could　never　be　anything　quite　like　that　again。
Nevertheless；　school　seemed　still　a　long　way　distant。　It　was　only
his　manliness　that　he　was　realising　and　a　certain　impatience　and
restlessness　that　underlay　everything　that　he　did。

September　and　October　are　often　very　lovely　months　in　Polchester；
autumn　seems　to　come　there　with　a　greater　warmth　and　richness　than
it　does　elsewhere。　Along　all　the　reaches　of　the　Pol；　right　down　to
the　sea；　the　leaves　of　the　woods　hung　with　a　riotous　magnificence
that　is　glorious　in　its　recklessness。　The　waters　of　that　silent
river　are　so　still；　so　glassy；　that　the　banks　of　gold　and　flaming
red　are　reflected　in　all　their　richest　colour　down　into　the　very
heart　of　the　stream；　and　it　is　only　when　a　fish　jumps　or　a　twig
falls　from　the　overhanging　trees　that　the　mirror　is　broken　and　the
colours　flash　into　ripples　and　shadows　of　white　and　grey。　The　utter
silence　of　all　this　world　makes　the　Cathedral　town　sleepy；　sluggish；
forgotten　of　all　men。　As　the　autumn　comes　it　seems　to　drowse　away
into　winter　to　the　tune　of　its　Cathedral　bells；　to　the　scent　of　its
burning　leaves　and　the　soft　steps　of　its　Canons　and　clergy。　There　is
every　autumn　here　a　clerical　conference；　and　long　before　the
appointed　week　begins；　and　long　after　it　is　lawfully　concluded；
clergymen；　strange　clergymen　with　soft　black　hats；　take　the　town　for
their　own；　gaze　into　Martin　the　pastry…cook's；　sit　in　the　dusk　of
the　Cathedral　listening　to　the　organ；　walk；　their　heads　in　air；
their　arms　folded　behind　their　backs；　straight　up　Orange　Street　as
though　they　were　scaling　Heaven　itself；　stop　little　children；　pat
their　heads；　and　give　them　pennies；　stand　outside　Poole's　bookshop
and　delve　in　the　2d。　box　for　thumb…marked　sermons；　stand　gazing　in
learned　fashion　at　the　great　West　Door；　investigating　the　saints　and
apostles　portrayed　thereon；　hurry　in　their　best　hats　and　coats　along
the　Close　to　some　ladies'　tea…party；　or　pass　with　solemn　and　anxious
mien　into　the　palace　of　the　Bishop　himself。

All　these　things　belong　to　autumn　in　Polchester；　as　Jeremy　very　well
knew；　but　the　event　that　marks　the　true　beginning　of　the　season；　the
only　way　by　which　you　may　surely　know　that　summer　is　over　and　autumn
is　come　is　Pauper's　Fair。

This　famous　fair　has　been；　from　time　immemorial；　a　noted　event　in
Glebeshire　life。　Even　now；　when　fairs　have　yielded　to　cinematographs
as　attractions　for　the　people；　Pauper's　Fair　gives　its　annual
excitement。　Thirty　years　ago　it　was　the　greatest　event　of　the　year
in　Polchester。　All　our　fine　people；　of　course；　disliked　it
extremely。　It　disturbed　the　town　for　days；　the　town　rocked　in　the
arms　of　crowds　of　drunken　sailors；　the　town　gave　shelter　to　gipsies
and　rogues　and　scoundrels；　the　town；　the　decent；　amiable；　happy　town
actually　for　a　week　or　so　seemed　to　invite　the　world　of　the　blazing
fire　and　the　dancing　clown。　No　wonder　that　our　fine　people
shuddered。　Only　the　other　dayI　speak　now　of　these　modern　times
the　Bishop　tried　to　stop　the　whole　business。　He　wrote　to　the
Glebeshire　Morning　News；　urging　that　Pauper's　Fair；　in　these　days　of
enlightenment　and　culture；　cannot　but　be　regretted　by　all　those　who
have　the　healthy　progress　of　our　dear　country　at　heart。　Well；　you
would　be　amazed　at　the　storm　that　his　protest　raised。　People　wrote
from　all　over　the　County；　and　there　were　ultimately　letters　from
patriotic　Glebeshire　citizens　in　New　Zealand　and　South　Africa。　And
in　Polchester　itself！　Everyoneeven　those　who　had　shuddered　most　at
the　fair's　iniquitieswas　indignant。　Give　up　the　fair！　One　of　the
few　signs　left　of　that　jolly　Old　England　whose　sentiment　is
cherished　by　us；　whose　fragments　nevertheless　we　so　readily　stamp
upon。　No；　the　fair　must　remain　and　will　remain；　I　have　no　doubt；
until　the　very　end　of　our　national　chapter。

Nowadays　it　has　shed；　very　largely；　I　am　afraid；　the　character　that
it　gloriously　maintained　thirty　years　ago。　Then　it　was　really　an
invasion　by　the　seafaring　element　of　the　County。　All　the　little
country　ports　and　harbours　poured　out　their　fishermen　and　sailors；
who　came　walking；　driving；　singing；　laughing；　swearing；　they　filled
the　streets；　and　went　peering；　like　the　wildest　of　ancient　Picts；
into　the　mysterious　beauties　of　the　Cathedral；　and　late　at　night；
when　the　town　should　have　slept；　arm　in　arm　they　went　roaring　past
the　dark　windows；　singing　their　songs；　stamping　their　feet；　and
every　once　and　again　ringing　a　decent　door…bell　for　their　amusement。
It　was　very　seldom　that　any　harm　was　done。　Once　a　serious　fire　broke
out　amongst　the　old　wooden　houses　down　on　the　river；　and　some　of
them　were　burnt　to　the　ground；　a　fate　that　no　one　deplored；　once　a
sailor　was　murdered　in　a　drunken　squabble　at　〃The　Dog　and　Pilchard；〃
the　wildest　of　the　riverside　hostelries；　and　once　a　Canon　was　caught
and　stripped　and　ducked　in　the　waters　of　the　Pol　by　a　mob　who
resented　his　gentle　appeals　that　they　should　try　to　prefer　lemonade
to　gin；　but　these　were　the　only　three　catastrophes　in　all　the
history　of　the　fair。

During　the　fair　week　the　town　sniffed　of　the　seaof　lobster　and
seaweed　and　tar　and　brineand　all　the　tales　of　the　sea　that　have
ever　been　told　by　man　were　told　during　these　days　in　Polchester。

The　decent　people　kept　their　doors　locked；　their　children　at　home；
and　their　valuables　in　the　family　safe。　No　upper　class　child　in
Polchester　so　much　as　saw　the　outside　of　a　gipsy　van。　The　Dean's
Ernest　was　accustomed　to　boast　that　he　had　once　been　given　a　ride　by
a　gipsy　on　a　donkey；　when　his　nurse　was　not　looking；　but　no　one
credited　the　story；　and　the　details　with　which　he　supported　it　were
feeble　and　unconvincing。　The　Polchester　children　in　general　were
told　that　〃they　would　be　stolen　by　the　gipsies　if　they　weren't
careful；〃　and；　although　some　of　them　in　extreme　moments　of　rebellion
and　depression　felt　that　the　life　of　adventure　thus　offered　to　them；
might；　after　all；　be　more　agreeable　than　the　dreary　realism　of　their
natural　days；　the　warning　may　be　said　to　have　been　effective。

No　family　in　Polchester　was　guarded　more　carefully　in　this　matter　of
the　Pauper's　Fair　than　the　Cole　family。　Mr。　Cole　had　an　absolute
horror　of　the　fair。　Sailors　and　gipsies　were　to　him　the　sign　and
seal　of　utter　damnation；　and　although　he　tried；　as　a　Christian
clergyman；　to　believe　that　they　deserved　pity　because　of　the
disadvantages　under　which　they　had　from　the　first　laboured；　he
confessed　to　his　intimate　friends　that　he　saw　very　little　hope　for
them　either　in　this　world　or　the　next。　Jeremy；　Helen　and　Mary　were；
during　Fair　Week；　kept　severely　within　doors；　their　exercise　had　to
be　taken　in　the　Cole　garden；　and　the　farthest　that　they　poked　their
noses　into　the　town　was　their　visit　to　St。　John's　on　Sunday　morning。
Except　on　one　famous　occasion。　The　Fair　Week　of　Jeremy's　fifth　year
saw　him　writhing　under　a　terrible　attack　of　toothache；　which　became；
after　two　agonised　nights；　such　a　torment　and　distress　to　the　whole
household　that　he　had　to　be　conveyed　to　the　house　of　Mr。　Pilter；　who
had　his　torture…　chamber　at　No。　3　Market　Square。　It　is　true　that
Jeremy　was　conveyed　thither　in　a　cab；　and　that　his　pain　and　his
darkened　windows　prevented　him　from　seeing　very　much　of　the　gay
world；　nevertheless；　in　spite　of　the　Jampot；　who　guarded　him　like　a
dragon；　he　caught　a　glimpse　of　flags；　a　gleaming　brass　band　and　a
Punch　and　Judy　show；　and　he　heard　the　trumpets　and　the　drum；　and　the
shouts　of　excited　little　boys；　and　the　blowing　of　the　Punch　and　Judy
pipes；　and　he　smelt　roasting　chestnuts；　bad　tobacco；　and　beer　and
gin。　He　returned；　young　as　he　was；　and　reduced　to　a　corpse…like
condition　by　the　rough　but　kindly　intentioned　services　of　Mr。
Pilter；　with　the　picture　of　a　hysterical；　abandoned　world　clearly
imprinted　upon　his　brain。

〃I　want　to　go；〃　he　said　to　the　Jampot。

〃You　can't；〃　said　she。

〃I　will　when　I'm　six；〃　said　he。

〃You　won't；〃　said　she。

〃I　will　when　I'm　seven；〃　said　he。

〃You　won't；〃　said　she。

〃I　will　when　I'm　eight；〃　he　answered。

〃Oh；　give　over；　do；　Master　Jeremy；〃　said　she。　And　now　he　was　eight；
very　nearly　nine；　and　going　to　school　in　a　fortni