"Did you like it?"whispered Mary hoarsely.
"You've got some jam on the side of your nose,"said Jeremy.
He was sitting next to his father,who had the corner seat,and he now devoted all his energies to prevent himself from falling asleep against his father's leg.But the ginger-beer,the glazed and shining fields beyond the window,the little blobs of sunlight that danced upon the floor of the carriage,the scents of food and flowers,and the hot breeze,the hum of the train,and the dancing of the telegraph wires--all these things were against him.His head began to nod and then to jump back with a sudden terrible spring as though an evil demon pulled it with a rope from behind,the carriage swelled like a balloon,then dwindled into a thin,straight line.
The strangest things happened to his friends and relations.His mother,who was reading The Church Family Newspaper,developed two faces and a nose like a post,and Uncle Samuel,who had,in harsh reality,two chins,seemed to be all folds and creases like a balloon when it is shivering down into collapse.Jeremy fought with these fantasies;the lines on the newspaper doubled and redoubled,vanished and sprang to life again.He said:"I will not,"and,instantly,his head on the soft part of his father's thigh,was asleep.
III
In his dreams he was riding on a cloud all pink and gold,and behind came a row of shining,white clouds fluffy like bales of wool wrapped round lighted lanterns.His cloud rose and fell,rose and fell,and a voice said in his ear:"All is well!All is well!You can go on like this for ever.There will be jam-puffs soon,and ice-cream,and fish-cakes,and you can go to China this way whenever you like."And he said:"Can't I take Hamlet with me?"And the voice answered:"Hamlet is with you already,"and there,behold,was Hamlet sitting on the pink cloud with a stiff gold collar round his neck,wagging his tail.And then the voice shouted so loudly that Jeremy jumped off the pink cloud in his astonishment:
"Liskane!Liskane!Liskane!"and Jeremy jumped and fell and fell--right into his father's lap,with someone crying in his ear:"Wake up,Jeremy!We're there!We're there!"His first thought was for his green box,which was,he found,safely and securely in his hand.Then for Hamlet,who was,he saw with horror,already upon the platform,the lead trailing behind him like a neglected conscience,his burning eyes piercing his hair in search of another dog,whom he smelt but could not see.
Jeremy,rushing out of the train,seized the lead,scolded his recovered property,who wore an expression of injured and abandoned innocence,and looked about him.Yes,this was Liskane--wonderful,marvellous,magical Liskane!To the bored and cynical adult Liskane may easily appear to be one of the ugliest,most deserted stations in the whole of Europe,having nothing on either side of it save barren grey fields that never grow grass but only stones and bottles,with its single decoration--a heavy iron bridge that crosses the rails and leads up to the higher road and the town of Liskane.Ugly enough,but to Jeremy,on this summer afternoon,the gate to a sure and certain Paradise.
Although his family were fussing around him,Barbara crying,Mr.
Cole saying:"Four,Five,Six.But where's the black box?Your black box,Amy.Six,Seven.But there should be Eight.
Seven ."and Mrs.Cole saying:"And there's my brown bag.The little one with the black handle,"and Helen saying."OO,was it adidums,then Nandy-Pandy,Nandy-Pandy."and Miss Jones:"Now,Mary!Now,Jeremy!Now,Helen!";although this was going on just as it always had gone on,his eyes were searching for the wagonette.
Ah,there it was!He could just see the top of it beyond the iron bridge,and Jim,the man from the Farm,would be coming down to help with the boxes;yes,there he was crossing the bridge now,with his red face and broad shoulders,and the cap on the side of his head,just as he always wore it.Jeremy recognised him with a strange,little choking sensation.It was "coming home"to him,all this was--the great event of his life,and as he looked at the others he realised,young as he was,that none of them felt it as he did,and the realisation gave him a strange feeling,half of gratification,half of loneliness.He stood there,a little apart from the rest of them,clutching his box,and holding on to Hamlet's lead,feeling so deeply excited that his heart was like a hard,cold stone jumping up and down,bump,bump,behind his waistcoat.
"That's Jim!That's Jim!"he whispered in a hoarse gasp to Miss Jones.
"Now mind,dear,"she answered in her kindly,groping voice."You'll be falling on to the rail if you aren't careful."It strangely annoyed him that his father should greet Jim just as though he were some quite ordinary man in Polchester.He himself waited in a strange agitation until Jim should notice him.The man turned at last,bending down to pick up a box,saw him,touched his cap,smiling a long,crooked smile,and Jeremy blushed with happiness.It was the first recognition that he had had from the farm,and it pleased him.
They all moved up to the higher road.Uncle Samuel,coming on at the last,in a dreamy,moody way,stopping on the bridge to look down at the railway-line,and then suddenly saying aloud:
"Their minds are full of the number of boxes,and whether they'll get tea,and who's to pay what,and 'How badly I want a wash!'and already to-morrow they'll be wondering whether they oughn't to be getting home to Polchester.All sham!All sham!"He wasn't speaking to Jeremy,but to himself.However,Jeremy said:
"Did you see Jim,Uncle ?"
"No,I did not."
"He's fatter and redder than last year."
"I shouldn't wonder."
"Are you going to paint,Uncle?"
"I am."
"What?"
"Oh,just lines and circles."
Jeremy paused,standing for a moment,and looked puzzled.Then he said:
"Do you like babies,Uncle Samuel?"
"No,I do not."
"Not even Barbara ?"
"No--certainly not."
