But Jeremy will never again discover so complete a realisation for his illusions.

Whatever failures in the presentation there were, he himself made good.
As a finale to the first half of the entertainment there was given Dick's dream at the Cross-Roads.

He lay on the hard ground, his head upon his bundle, the cat as large as he watching sympathetically beside him.

In the distance were the lights of London, and then, out of the half dusk, fairies glittering with stars and silver danced up and down the dusky road whilst all the London bells rang out "Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London." Had Jeremy been of the age and wisdom of Uncle Samuel he would have discovered that Dick was a stout lady and probably the mother of a growing family; that the fairies knew as much about dancing as the Glebeshire wives sitting on the bench behind; that the London bells were two hand instruments worked by a youth in shirt sleeves behind the scenes so energetically that the High Road and the painted London blew backwards and forwards in sympathy with his movements.

Jeremy, happily, was not so worldly wise as his uncle.