He tried to catch one last glimpse of his coal-black charger, then, with a sigh, he said, turning to his uncle: "I suppose we'd better be going." "Yes, I suppose we had," said Uncle Samuel.
They threaded their way through the Fair, passed the wooden stile, and were once again in the streets, dark and ancient under the moon, with all the noise and glare behind them.

Jeremy was thinking to himself: "It doesn't matter what Father does, or how angry he is, that was worth it." It was strange how little afraid he was.

Only a year ago to be punished by his father had been a terrible thing.

Now, since his mother's illness in the summer, his father had seemed to have no influence over him.
"Did they bend you, or did you just come yourself, Uncle ?" asked Jeremy.
"I happened to be taking the air in that direction," said Uncle Samuel.
"I hope you didn't come away before you wanted to," said Jeremy politely.
"I did not," said his uncle.
"Is Father very angry ?" asked Jeremy.
"It's more than likely he may be.

The Town Crier's expensive." "I didn't think they'd know," explained Jeremy.