“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