He often thought of it.And now in the same bewildering fashion he found his boots and cap and coat and then,deliberately keeping from him the thought of the Pantomime lest he should suddenly wake up,he said:
"I'm ready,Uncle."
Samuel Trefusia looked at him.
"You're a strange kid,"he said;"you take everything so quietly--but,thank God,I don't understand children.""There's Hamlet,"said Jeremy,wondering whether perhaps the dream would extend to his friend."I suppose he can't come too.""No,he certainly can't,"said Uncle Samuel grimly.
"And there's Rose.She'll wonder where I've gone.""I've told her.Don't you worry.What a conscientious infant you are.Just like your father.Anything else?""No,"said Jeremy breathlessly,and nearly murdered himself going downstairs because he shut his eyes in order to continue the dream so long as it was possible.Then in the cold night air,grasping his uncle's hand with a feverish hold,he stammered:
"Is it really true?Are we going--really?"
"Of course we're going.Come on--step out or you'll miss the Giant.""But--but--oh!"he drew a deep breath."Then they don't think me a liar any more?
"They--who?"
"Father and Mother and everyone."
"Don't you think about them.You'd better enjoy yourself.""But you said you wouldn't go to the Pantomime--not for anything?""Well,I've changed my mind.Don't talk so much.You know I hate you children chattering.Always got something to say."So Jeremy was silent.They raced down Orange Street,Jeremy being almost carried off his feet.This was exactly like a dream.This rushing movement and the way that the lamp-posts ran up to you as though they were going to knock you down,and the way that the stars crackled and sputtered and trembled overhead.But Uncle Samuel's hand was flesh and blood,and the heel of Jeremy's right shoe hurt him and he felt the tickle of his sailor-collar at the back of his neck,just as he did when he was awake.
Then there they were at the Assembly Rooms door,Jeremy having become so breathless that Uncle Samuel had to hold him up for a moment or he'd have fallen.
"Bit too fast for you,was it?Well,you shouldn't be so fat.You eat too much.Now we're not going to sit with your father and mother--there isn't room for you there.So don't you go calling out to them or anything.We're sitting in the back and you'd better be quiet or they'll turn you out.""I'll be quiet,"gasped Jeremy.
Uncle Samuel paused at a lighted hole in the wall and spoke to a large lady in black silk who was drinking a cup of tea.Jeremy caught the jingle of money.Then they moved forward,stumbling in the dark up a number of stone steps,pushing at a heavy black curtain,then suddenly bathed in a bewildering glow of light and scent and colour.
Jeremy's first impression,as he fell into this new world,was of an ugly,harsh,but funny voice crying out very loudly indeed:"Oh,my great aunt!Oh,my great aunt!Oh,my great aunt!"A roar of laughter rose about him,almost lifting him off his feet,and close to his car a Glebeshire voice sobbed:"Eh,my dear.Poor worm!Poor worm!"He was aware then of a strong smell of oranges,of Uncle Samuel pushing him forward,of stumbling over boots,knees,and large hands that were clapping in his very nose,of falling into a seat and then clinging to it as though it was his only hope in this strange puzzling world.The high funny voice rose again:"Oh,my great aunt!
Oh,my great aunt!"And again it was followed by the rough roar of delighted laughter.
He was aware then that about him on every side gas was sizzling,and then,as he recovered slowly his breath,his gaze was drawn to the great blaze of light in the distance,against which figures were dimly moving,and from the heart of which the strange voice came.He heard a woman's voice,then several voices together;then suddenly the whole scene shifted into focus,his eyes were tied to the light;the oranges and the gas and the smell of clothes and heated bodies slipped back into distance--he was caught into the world where he had longed to be.
He saw that it was a shop--and he loved shops.His heart beat thickly as his eyes travelled up and up and up over the rows and rows of shelves;here were bales of cloth,red and green and blue;carpets from the East,table-covers,sheets and blankets.Behind the long yellow counters young men in strange clothes were standing.In the middle of the scene was a funny old woman,her hat tumbling off her head,her shabby skirt dragging,large boots,and a red nose.It was from this strange creature that the deep ugly voice proceeded.
She had,this old woman,a number of bales of cloth under her arms,and she tried to carry them all,but one slipped,and then another,and then another;she bent to pick them up and her hat fell off;she turned for her hat and all the bales tumbled together.Jeremy began to laugh--everyone laughed;the strange voice came again and again,lamenting,bewailing,she had secured one bale,a smile of cautious triumph began to spread over her ugly face,then the bales all fell again,and once more she was on her knees.It was then that her voice or some movement brought to Jeremy's eyes so vividly the figure of their old gardener,Jordan,that he turned round to Uncle Samuel,and suddenly grasping that gentleman's fat thigh,exclaimed convulsively:"Why,she's a man!"What a strange topsy-turvy world this was in which women were men,and shops turned (as with a sudden creaking and darkness and clattering did this one)into gardens by the sea.Jeremy drew his breath deeply and held on.His mouth was open and his hair on end.
It is impossible to define exactly Jeremy's ultimate impression as the entertainment proceeded.Perhaps he had no ultimate impression.