He found then that this new sense or God-like power detracted a little from the excitements of the Market Place,although the flower-stall was dazzling with flowers;there was a new kind of pig that lifted its tail and lowered it again on the toy stall,and the apple-woman was as fat as ever and had thick clumps of yellow bananas hanging most richly around her head.They ascended the High Street and reached the Close.It was half-past three,and the Cathedral bells had begun to ring for evensong.All the houses in the Close were painted with a pale yellow light;across the long green Cathedral lawn thin black shadows like the fingers of giants pointed to the Cathedral door.All was so silent here that the bells danced against the houses and back again,the echoes lingering in the high elms and mingling with the placid cooing of the rooks.
"There's Mrs.Sampson,"said Jeremy."Aunt Amy says she's a wicked woman.Do you think she's a wicked woman,Nurse?"He gazed at the stout figure with interest.If he were truly God he would turn her into a rabbit.This thought amused him,and he began to laugh.
"You naughty boy;now come along,do,"said the Jampot,who distrusted laughter in Jerry.
"I'll ring the bells when I grow up,"he said,"and I'll ring them in the middle of the night,so that everyone will have to go to church when they don't want to.I'll be able to do what I like when I grow up.""No,you won't,"said Helen."Father and Mother can't do what they like.""Yes they can,"said Jeremy.
"No they can't,"answered Helen,"or they would.""So they do,"said Jeremy--"silly."
"Silly yourself,"said Helen very calmly,because she knew very well that she was not silly.
"Now,children,stop it,do,"said the Jampot.
Jeremy's sense of newly received power reached its climax when they walked round the Close and reached the back of the Cathedral.I know that now,both for Jeremy and me,that prospect has dwindled into its proper grown-up proportions,but how can a man,be he come to threescore and ten and more,ever forget the size,the splendour,the stupendous extravagance of that early vision?
Jeremy saw that day the old fragment of castle wall,the green expanse falling like a sheeted waterfall from the Cathedral heights,the blue line of river flashing in the evening sun between the bare-boughed trees,the long spaces of black shadow spreading slowly over the colour,as though it were all being rolled up and laid away for another day;the brown frosty path of the Rope Walk,the farther bank climbing into fields and hedges,ending in the ridge of wood,black against the golden sky.And all so still!As the children stood there they could catch nestlings'faint cries,stirrings of dead leaves and twigs,as birds and beasts moved to their homes;the cooing of the rooks about the black branches seemed to promise that this world should be for ever tranquil,for ever cloistered and removed;the sun,red and flaming above the dark wood,flung white mists hither and thither to veil its departure.The silence deepened,the last light flamed on the river and died upon the hill.
"Now,children,come along do,"said the Jampot who had been held in spite of herself,and would pay for it,she knew,in rheumatism to-morrow.It was then that Jeremy's God-flung sense of power,born from that moment early in the day when he had sat in the wicker chair,reached its climax.He stood there,his legs apart,looking upon the darkening world and felt that he could do anything--anything.
At any rate,there was one thing that he could do,disobey the Jampot.
"I'm not coming,"he said,"till I choose."
"You wicked boy!"she cried,her temper rising with the evening chills,her desire for a cup of hot tea,and an aching longing for a comfortable chair."When everyone's been so good to you to-day and the things you've been given and all--why,it's a wicked shame."The Jampot,who was a woman happily without imagination,saw a naughty small boy spoiled and needing the slipper.
A rook,taking a last look at the world before retiring to rest,watching from his leafless bough,saw a mortal spirit defying the universe,and sympathised with it.
"I shall tell your mother,"said the Jampot."Now come,Master Jeremy,be a good boy.""Oh,don't bother,Nurse,"he answered impatiently."You're such a fuss."She realised in that moment that he was suddenly beyond her power,that he would never be within it again.She had nursed him for eight years,she had loved him in her own way;she,dull perhaps in the ways of the world,but wise in the ways of nurses,ways that are built up of surrender and surrender,gave him,then and there,to the larger life.
"You may behave as you like,Master Jeremy,"she said."It won't be for long that I'll have the dealing with you,praise be.You'll be going to school next September,and then we'll see what'll happen to your wicked pride.""School!"he turned upon her,his eyes wide and staring.
"School!"he stared at them all.
The world tumbled from him.In his soul was a confusion of triumph and dismay,of excitement and loneliness,of the sudden falling from him of all old standards,old horizons,of pride and humility.
How little now was the Village to him.He looked at them to see whether they could understand.They could not.
Very quietly he followed them home.His birthday had achieved its climax.