He returned, young as he was, and reduced to a corpse-like condition by the rough but kindly intentioned services of Mr.Pilter, with the picture of a hysterical, abandoned world clearly imprinted upon his brain.
"I want to go," he said to the Jampot.
"You can't," said she.
"I will when I'm six," said he.
"You won't," said she.
"I will when I'm seven," said he.
"You won't," said she.
"I will when I'm eight," he answered.
"Oh, give over, do, Master Jeremy," said she.

And now he was eight, very nearly nine, and going to school in a fortnight.

There seemed to be a touch of destiny about his prophecy.
II He had no intention of disobedience.

Had he been once definitely told by someone in authority that he was not to go to the fair he would not have dreamt of going.

He had no intention of disobedience--but he had returned from the Cow Farm holiday in a strange condition of mind.
He had found there this summer more freedom than he had been ever allowed in his life before, and it had been freedom that had come, not so much from any change of rules, but rather from his own attitude to the family--simply he had wanted to do certain things, and he had done them and the family had stood aside.