But even after that he was never put upon his honour."If I don't promise,I needn't mind,"he said to himself,and waited breathlessly;but nothing came.Only Aunt Amy said:
"I hope you don't speak to little boys in the street,Jeremy."To which he replied scornfully:"Of course not."He investigated his money-box,removing the top with a tin-opener.
He found that he had there 3s.31/2d.a large sum,and enough to give him a royal time.
Mary caught him.
"Oh,Jeremy,what are you doing?"
"Just counting my money,"he said,with would-be carelessness.
"You're going to the Fair?"she whispered breathlessly.
He frowned.How could she know?She always knew everything.
"Perhaps,"he whispered back;"but if you tell anyone I'll--""Of course I wouldn't tell,"she replied,deeply offended.
This little conversation strengthened his purpose.He had not admitted to himself that he was really going.Now he knew.
Wednesday would be the night.On Wednesday evenings his father had a service which prevented him from returning home until half-past eight.He would go to Somerset's at half-past four,and would he expected home at half-past six;there would be no real alarm about him until his father's return from church,and he could,therefore,be sure of two hours'bliss.For the consequences he did not care at all.He was going to do no harm to anyone or anything.They would be angry,perhaps,but that would not hurt him,and,in any case,he was going to school next week.No one at school would mind whether he had been to the Fair or no.
He felt aloof and apart,as though no one could touch him.He would not have minded simply going into them all and saying:"I'm off to the Fair."The obvious drawback to that would have been that he would have been shut up in his room,and then they might make him give his word .He would not break any promises.
When Wednesday came it was a lovely day.Out in the field just behind the Coles'house they were burning a huge bonfire of dead leaves.At first only a heavy column of grey smoke rose,then flames broke through;little,thin golden flames like paper;then a sudden fierce red tongue shot out and went licking up into the air until it faded like tumbling water against the sunlight.On the outer edge of the bonfire there was thin grey smoke through which you could see as through glass.The smell was heavenly,and even through closed windows the crackling of the burnt leaves could be heard.The sight of the bonfire excited Jeremy.It seemed to him a signal of encouragement,a spur to perseverance.All the morning the flames crackled,and men came with wheelbarrows full of leaves and emptied them in thick heaps upon the fire.At each emptying the fire would be for a moment beaten,and only the white,thick,malicious smoke would come through;then a little spit of flame,another,another;then a thrust like a golden hand stretching out;then a fine,towering,quivering splendour.
Under the full noonday sun the fire was pale and so unreal,weak,and sickly,that one was almost ashamed to look at it.But as the afternoon passed,it again gathered strength,and with the faint,dusky evening it was a giant once more.
"You come along,"it said to Jeremy."Come along!Come along!""I'm going to Mr.Somerset's,Mother,"he said,putting two exercise books and a very new and shining blue Latin book together.
"Are you,dear?I suppose you're safe?"Mrs.Cole asked,looking through the drawing-room window.
"Oh,it's all right,"said Jeremy "Well,I think it is,"said Mrs.Cole."The street seems quite empty.Don't speak to any odd-looking men,will you?""Oh,that's all right,"he said again.
He walked down Orange Street,his books under his arm,the 3s.31/2d.in his pocket.The street was quite deserted,swimming in a cold,pale light;the trees,the houses,the church,the garden-walls,sharp and black;the street,dim and precipitous,tumbling forward into the blue,whence lights,one,two,three,now a little bunch together,came pricking out.
The old woman opened the door when he rang Mr.Somerset's bell.
"Master's been called away,"she said in her croaking voice."Aburial.'E 'adn't time to let you know.'Tell the little gen'l'man,''e said,'I'm sorry.'"
"All right,"said Jeremy;"thank you."
He descended the steps,then stood where he was,in the street,looking up and down.Who could deny that it was all being arranged for him?He felt more than ever like God as he looked proudly about him.Everything served his purpose.
The jingling of the money in his pocket reminded him that he must waste no more time.He started off.
Even his progress through the town seemed wonderful,quite unattended at last,as he had always all his life longed to be.So soon as he left Orange Street and entered the market he was caught into a great crowd.It was all stirring and humming with a noise such as the bonfire had all day been ******.It was his first introduction to the world--he had never been in a large crowd before--and it is not to be denied but that his heart beat thick and his knees trembled a little.But he pulled himself together.Who was he to be afraid?But the books under his arm were a nuisance.He suddenly dropped them in amongst the legs and boots of the people.
There were many interesting sights to be seen in the market-place,but he could not stay,and he found himself soon,to his own surprise,slipping through the people as quietly and easily as though he had done it all his days,only always he kept his hand on his money lest that should be stolen and his adventure suddenly come to nothing.
He knew his way very well,and soon he was at the end of Finch Street which in those days opened straight into fields and hedges.
Even now,so little has Polchester grown in thirty years,the fields and hedges are not very far away.Here there was a stile with a large wooden fence on either side of it,and a red-faced man saying: