“I’mready，Uncle。“
　　SamuelTrefusialookedathim。
　　“You’reastrangekid，“hesaid；“youtakeeverythingsoquietly——
　　but，thankGod，Idon’tunderstandchildren。“
　　“There’sHamlet，“saidJeremy，wonderingwhetherperhapsthedreamwouldextendtohisfriend。“Isupposehecan’tcometoo。“
　　“No，hecertainlycan’t，“saidUncleSamuelgrimly。
　　“Andthere’sRose。She’llwonderwhereI’vegone。“
　　“I’vetoldher。Don’tyouworry。Whataconscientiousinfantyouare。Justlikeyourfather。Anythingelse？“
　　“No，“saidJeremybreathlessly，andnearlymurderedhimselfgoingdownstairsbecauseheshuthiseyesinordertocontinuethedreamsolongasitwaspossible。Theninthecoldnightair，graspinghisuncle’shandwithafeverishhold，hestammered：
　　“Isitreallytrue？Arewegoing——really？“
　　“Ofcoursewe’regoing。Comeon——stepoutoryou’llmisstheGiant。“
　　“But——but——oh！“hedrewadeepbreath。“Thentheydon’tthinkmealiaranymore？？
　　“They——who？“
　　“FatherandMotherandeveryone。“
　　“Don’tyouthinkaboutthem。You’dbetterenjoyyourself。“
　　“Butyousaidyouwouldn’tgotothePantomime——notforanything？“
　　“Well，I’vechangedmymind。Don’ttalksomuch。YouknowIhateyouchildrenchattering。Alwaysgotsomethingtosay。“
　　SoJeremywassilent。TheyraceddownOrangeStreet，Jeremybeingalmostcarriedoffhisfeet。Thiswasexactlylikeadream。Thisrushingmovementandthewaythatthelamp-postsranuptoyouasthoughtheyweregoingtoknockyoudown，andthewaythatthestarscrackledandsputteredandtrembledoverhead。ButUncleSamuel’shandwasfleshandblood，andtheheelofJeremy’srightshoehurthimandhefeltthetickleofhissailor-collaratthebackofhisneck，justashedidwhenhewasawake。
　　ThentheretheywereattheAssemblyRoomsdoor，JeremyhavingbecomesobreathlessthatUncleSamuelhadtoholdhimupforamomentorhe’dhavefallen。
　　“Bittoofastforyou，wasit？Well，youshouldn’tbesofat。Youeattoomuch。Nowwe’renotgoingtositwithyourfatherandmother——thereisn’troomforyouthere。Sodon’tyougocallingouttothemoranything。We’resittinginthebackandyou’dbetterbequietorthey’llturnyouout。“
　　“I’llbequiet，“gaspedJeremy。
　　UncleSamuelpausedatalightedholeinthewallandspoketoalargeladyinblacksilkwhowasdrinkingacupoftea。Jeremycaughtthejingleofmoney。Thentheymovedforward，stumblinginthedarkupanumberofstonesteps，pushingataheavyblackcurtain，thensuddenlybathedinabewilderingglowoflightandscentandcolour。
　　Jeremy’sfirstimpression，ashefellintothisnewworld，wasofanugly，harsh，butfunnyvoicecryingoutveryloudlyindeed：“Oh，mygreataunt！Oh，mygreataunt！Oh，mygreataunt！“Aroaroflaughterroseabouthim，almostliftinghimoffhisfeet，andclosetohiscaraGlebeshirevoicesobbed：“Eh，mydear。Poorworm！Poorworm！“
　　Hewasawarethenofastrongsmelloforanges，ofUncleSamuelpushinghimforward，ofstumblingoverboots，knees，andlargehandsthatwereclappinginhisverynose，offallingintoaseatandthenclingingtoitasthoughitwashisonlyhopeinthisstrangepuzzlingworld。Thehighfunnyvoiceroseagain：“Oh，mygreataunt！
　　Oh，mygreataunt！“Andagainitwasfollowedbytheroughroarofdelightedlaughter。
　　Hewasawarethenthatabouthimoneverysidegaswassizzling，andthen，asherecoveredslowlyhisbreath，hisgazewasdrawntothegreatblazeoflightinthedistance，againstwhichfiguresweredimlymoving，andfromtheheartofwhichthestrangevoicecame。Heheardawoman’svoice，thenseveralvoicestogether；thensuddenlythewholesceneshiftedintofocus，hiseyesweretiedtothelight；
　　theorangesandthegasandthesmellofclothesandheatedbodiesslippedbackintodistance——hewascaughtintotheworldwherehehadlongedtobe。
　　Hesawthatitwasashop——andhelovedshops。Hisheartbeatthicklyashiseyestravelledupandupandupovertherowsandrowsofshelves；herewerebalesofcloth，redandgreenandblue；
　　carpetsfromtheEast，table-covers，sheetsandblankets。Behindthelongyellowcountersyoungmeninstrangeclotheswerestanding。Inthemiddleofthescenewasafunnyoldwoman，herhattumblingoffherhead，hershabbyskirtdragging，largeboots，andarednose。Itwasfromthisstrangecreaturethatthedeepuglyvoiceproceeded。
　　Shehad，thisoldwoman，anumberofbalesofclothunderherarms，andshetriedtocarrythemall，butoneslipped，andthenanother，andthenanother；shebenttopickthemupandherhatfelloff；sheturnedforherhatandallthebalestumbledtogether。Jeremybegantolaugh——everyonelaughed；thestrangevoicecameagainandagain，lamenting，bewailing，shehadsecuredonebale，asmileofcautioustriumphbegantospreadoverheruglyface，thenthebalesallfellagain，andoncemoreshewasonherknees。ItwasthenthathervoiceorsomemovementbroughttoJeremy’seyessovividlythefigureoftheiroldgardener，Jordan，thatheturnedroundtoUncleSamuel，andsuddenlygraspingthatgentleman’sfatthigh，exclaimedconvulsively：“Why，she’saman！“
　　Whatastrangetopsy-turvyworldthiswasinwhichwomenweremen，andshopsturnedaswithasuddencreakinganddarknessandclatteringdidthisoneintogardensbythesea。Jeremydrewhisbreathdeeplyandheldon。Hismouthwasopenandhishaironend……
　　ItisimpossibletodefineexactlyJeremy’sultimateimpressionastheentertainmentproceeded。Perhapshehadnoultimateimpression。
　　ItcannotinrealityhavebeenaverywonderfulPantomime。EvenatDruryLanethirtyyearsbackthereweremanythingsthattheydidnotknow，anditisnotlikelythatatouringcompanyfittedintosoinadequateanoldbuildingasourAssemblyRoomswouldhaveprovidedanythingveryfine。ButJeremywillneveragaindiscoversocompletearealisationforhisillusions。Whateverfailuresinthepresentationtherewere，hehimselfmadegood。
　　AsafinaletothefirsthalfoftheentertainmenttherewasgivenDick’sdreamattheCross-Roads。Helayonthehardground，hisheaduponhisbundle，thecataslargeashewatchingsympatheticallybesidehim。InthedistancewerethelightsofLondon，andthen，outofthehalfdusk，fairiesglitteringwithstarsandsilverdancedupanddowntheduskyroadwhilstalltheLondonbellsrangout“Turnagain，“Whittington，LordMayorofLondon。“
　　HadJeremybeenoftheageandwisdomofUncleSamuelhewouldhavediscoveredthatDickwasastoutladyandprobablythemotherofagrowingfamily；thatthefairiesknewasmuchaboutdancingastheGlebeshirewivessittingonthebenchbehind；thattheLondonbellsweretwohandinstrumentsworkedbyayouthinshirtsleevesbehindthescenessoenergeticallythattheHighRoadandthepaintedLondonblewbackwardsandforwardsinsympathywithhismovements。
　　Jeremy，happily，wasnotsoworldlywiseashisuncle。Thisscenecreatedforhimthenatraditionofimperishablebeautythatwouldneverfadeagain。Theworldafterthatnightwouldbeamoremagicalplacethanithadeverbeenbefore。“Turnagain，Whittington“
　　continuedtheeducationthattheToyVillageandHamlethadalreadyadvanced。
　　Whenthegasroseonceagain，sizzlinglikecracklingbacon，hewaswhitewithexcitement。Theonlyremarkthathemadewas：“It’smuchbetterthanthepicturesoutsideMartin’s，isn’tit，UncleSamuel？“
　　towhichUncleSamuel，whohadbeenrailingforweeksatthedefloweringofPolchesterbythoseabominableposters，couldtruthfullyreply，“Muchbetter。“Littlebylittlehewithdrewhimselffromtheotherworldandrealisedhisown。HecouldseethatheandhisunclewerecertainlynotamongsttheQuality。Largeladies，theirdressestuckedupovertheirknees，suckedoranges。
　　Countryfarmerswithhugeknobblylookingstickswerethere，andevensomesailors，ontheirwayprobablytoDrymouth。HerecognisedtheladywhokeptchargeofthesmallOrangeStreetpost-office，andwavedtoherwithdelightedexcitement。Theatmospherewasthickwithgasandoranges，andI’mafraidthatUncleSamuelmusthavesufferedagreatdeal。Icanonlyputitonrecordthathe，themostselfishofhumanbeings，neverbreathedawordofcomplaint。
　　Theywereallpackedverycloselytogetherupthereinthegallery，whereseventyyearsbeforeanorchestrastraightfromJaneAusten’snovelshadplayedtothedancingofthecontemporariesofElizabethBennett，EmmaWoodhouse，andthedearladyof“Persuasion。“Anotherthirty-twoyearsandthatsamegallerywouldbelisteningtorecruitingappealsandechoingthedrumsandfifesofamartialband。Thebesttimesarealwaystheoldtimes。ThehugeladyintheseatnexttoJeremyalmostswallowedhimup，sothathepeeredoutfromunderherthickarm，andheardeverycrunchandcrackleofthepeppermintsthatshewasenjoying。Hegrewhotterandhotter，sothatatlastheseemed，asoncehehadreadinsomewarningtractaboutagreedyboythatAuntAmyhadgivenhim，“toswiminhisownfat。“Buthedidnotmind。Discomfortonlyemphasisedhishappiness。
　　Then，peeringforwardbeneaththatstoutblackarm，hesuddenlyperceived，farbelowintheswimmingdistance，thebackofhismother，thetopsoftheheadsofMaryandHelen，thestiffwhitecollarofhisfather，andthewell-knowncoralnecklaceofAuntAmy。Foramomentdismayseizedhim，themorning’sliewhichhehadentirelyforgottensuddenlyjumpingupandfacinghim。Buttheyhadforgivenhim。
　　“ShallIwavetothem？“heaskedexcitedlyofUncleSamuel。
　　“No，no，“saidhisuncleveryhurriedly。“Nonsense。Theywouldn’tseeyouifyoudid。Leavethemalone。“
　　Hefeltimmenselysuperiortothemupwherehewas，andhewouldn’thavechangedplaceswiththemforanything。Hegavealittlesighofsatisfaction。“IcoulddropanorangeontoAuntAmy’shead，“hesaid。“Wouldn’tshejump！“
　　“Youmustkeepquiet，“saidUncleSamuel。“You’regoodenoughasyouare。“
　　“I’dratherbehere，“saidJeremy。“It’sbeautifullyhothereandthere’salovelysmell。“
　　“Thereis，“saidUncleSamuel。
　　Thenthegaswentdown，andthecurtainwentup，andDick，nowinasuitofredsilkwithgoldenbuttons，continuedhisadventures。I