Come along, Miss Mary, now--none of that dawdling." Jeremy, in his H.M.S.

Adventure's cap and rough blue navy coat, felt himself superior to the Jampot, so he only said, "Oh, don't bother, Nurse," and then in the same breath, "I'll run you down the hill, Mary," and before anyone could say a word there they were at the bottom of Orange Street, as though they had fallen into a well.

The sun was gone, the golden horizon was gone--only the purple lights began to gather about their feet and climb slowly the high black houses.
Mary liked this, because she now had Jeremy to herself.

She began hurriedly, so that she should lose no time: "Shall I tell you a story, Jeremy?
I've got a new one.

Once upon a time there were three little boys, and they lived in a wood, and an old witch ate them, and the Princess who had heaps of jewellery and a white horse and a lovely gold dress came, and it was snowing and the witch--" This was always Mary's way.