"No,no,"said his uncle very hurriedly."Nonsense.They wouldn't see you if you did.Leave them alone."He felt immensely superior to them up where he was,and he wouldn't have changed places with them for anything.He gave a little sigh of satisfaction."I could drop an orange on to Aunt Amy's head,"he said."Wouldn't she jump!""You must keep quiet,"said Uncle Samuel."You're good enough as you are.""I'd rather be here,"said Jeremy."It's beautifully hot here and there's a lovely smell.""There is,"said Uncle Samuel.
Then the gas went down,and the curtain went up,and ****,now in a suit of red silk with golden buttons,continued his adventures.I have not space here to describe in detail the further events of his life--how,receiving a telegram from the King of the Zanzibars about the plague of rats,he took ship with his cat and Alderman Fitzwarren and his wife,how they were all swallowed by a whale,cast up by a most lucky chance on the Zanzibars,nearly cooked by the natives,and rescued by the King of the Zanzibars'beautiful daughter,killed all the rats,were given a huge feast,with dance and song,and finally ****,although tempted by the dusky Princess,refused a large fortune and returned to Alice of Eastcheap,the true lady of his heart.There were,of course,many other things,such as the aspirations and misadventures of Mrs.Fitzwarren,the deep-voiced lady who had already so greatly amused Jeremy.And then there was a Transformation Scene,in which roses turned into tulips and tulips into the Hall of Gold,down whose blazing steps marched stout representatives of all the nations.
It was in the middle of this last thrilling spectacle,when Jeremy's heart was in his mouth and he was so deeply excited that he did not know whether it were he or the lady next to him who was eating peppermints,that his uncle plucked him by the sleeve and said in his ear:"Come on.It's close on the end.We must go."Jeremy very reluctantly got up,and stumbled out over knees and legs and exclamations like:
"There's Japan!""No,it ain't;it's Chiney!""You's a fine,hearty young woman!"and so on.He was dragged through the black curtain,down the stone steps,and into the street.
"But it wasn't the end,"he said.
"It will be in one minute,"said his uncle."And I want us to get home first.""Why?"said Jeremy.
"Never you mind.Come on;we'll race it."
They arrived home breathless,and then,once again in the old familiar hall,Uncle Samuel said:
"Now you nip up to the nursery,and then they'll never know you've been out at all.""Never know?"said Jeremy."But you said they'd sent for me.""Well,"said Uncle Samuel,"that wasn't exactly true.As a matter of fact,they don't know you were there.""Oh!"said Jeremy,the corner of his mouth turning down."Then I've told a lie again!""Nonsense!"said Uncle Samuel impatiently."It wasn't you;it was I.""And doesn't it matter your telling lies?"asked Jeremy.
The answer to this difficult question was,happily for Uncle Samuel,interrupted by the arrival of the household,who had careened up Orange Street in a cab.
When Mr.and Mrs.Cole saw Jeremy standing in the hall,his great coat still on and his muffler round his neck,there was a fine scene of wonder and amazement.
Uncle Samuel explained."It was my fault.I told him you'd forgiven him and sent for him to come,after all.He's in an awful state now that you shouldn't forgive him."Whatever they thought of Uncle Samuel,this was obviously neither the time nor the place to speak out.Mrs.Cole looked at her son.
His body defiant,sleepy,excited.His mouth was obstinate,but his eyes appealed to her on the scene of the common marvellous experience that they had just enjoyed.
She hugged him.
"And you won't tell a lie again,will you,Jeremy,dear?""Oh,no!"And then,hurrying on:"And when the old woman tumbled down the steps,Mother,wasn't it lovely?And the fairies in **** Whittington's sleep,and when the furniture all fell all over the place--"He went slowly upstairs to the nursery,the happiest boy in the kingdom.But through all his happiness there was this puzzle:Uncle Samuel had told a lie,and no one had thought that it mattered.
There were good lies and bad ones then.Or was it that grown-up people could tell lies and children mustn't?
He tumbled into the warm,lighted nursery half asleep.There was Hamlet watching in front of the Jampot's sewing machine.
He would have things to think about for years and years and years.
There was the Jampot.
"I'm sorry I called you a beastly woman,"he said.
She sniffed.
"Well,I hope you'll be a good boy now,"she said.
"Oh,I'll be good,"he smiled."But,Nurse,are there some people can tell lies and others mustn't?""All them that tell lies goes to Hell,"said the Jampot."And now,Master Jeremy,come along and take your things off.It's past eleven,and what you'll be like to-morrow--"