“Now，Jeremy，wipeyourmouth，“saidAuntAmy。
Heobeyedatonce。
III
Teaover，theyalltroopedoutintothegardenagain。Theeveninglightnowpainteduponthelittlegreenlawnstrangetremblingshadowsofpurpleandgrey；theoldredgardenwallseemedtohavecreptforwards，asthoughitwouldprotectthehouseandthegardenfromthenight；andaskyofthefaintestblueseemed，withgentleapproval，toblessthequiettownfadingintoduskbeneathit。Overthecentreofthelawnthesunwasstillshining，andthereitwaswarmandlight。Butfromeverysidetheshadowsstealthilycreptforward。Agroupofchildrenplayedagainstthegoldencolour，theirwhitedressespatternsthatformedfiguresandbrokeandformedagain。TheCathedralbellwasringingforevensong，anditsnotesstoleaboutthegarden，andinandoutamongstthechildren，asthoughsomeguardianspiritwatchingovertheirsafetycountedtheirnumbers。
Jeremy，feelingratherneglectedandmiserable，stoodintheshadowneartheoakonthefarthersideofthelawn。Hedidnotwanttoplaywiththoselittlegirls，andyethewashurtbecausehehadnotbeenasked。Thepartyhadbeenamostmiserablefailure，andayearagoitwouldhavebeensuchasuccess。Hedidnotknowthathewasstandingnow，inthemiddleofhiseighthyear，atthepartingoftheways；thatonlyyesterdayhehadbeenababy，andthathewouldneverbeababyagain。Hedidnotfeelhisindependence——hefeltonlyinclinedtotearsandalonging，thathewouldnever，neverconfess，eventohimself，thatsomeoneshouldcomeandcomforthim！