And once at least while he was flying something happened to him that he was to remember better, far better, than his mother's face.
What set him running on this occasion (he had been sent out to get one of the girls' shoes soled) was the grandest sight to be seen in London--an endless row of policemen walking in single file, all with the right leg in the air at the same time, then the left leg.

Seeing at once that they were after him, Tommy ran, ran, ran until in turning a corner he found himself wedged between two legs.

He was of just sufficient size to fill the aperture, but after a momentary look he squeezed through, and they proved to be the gate into an enchanted land.
The magic began at once.

"Dagont, you sacket!" cried some wizard.
A policeman's hand on his shoulder could not have taken the wind out of Tommy more quickly.

In the act of starting a-running again he brought down his hind foot with a thud and stood stock still.