He had the bear in his arms and was feeling it, and in his mind the
warmth from the flickering, jumping flame and the soft, friendly
submission of the fur beneath his fingers were part of the same mystery.

His mother had been motoring; her cheeks were flushed, and her dark
clothes heightened, by their contrast, her colour. She knelt down on the
carpet and then, with her hands folded on her lap, watched her son. He
rolled the bear over and over, he poked it, he banged its head upon the
ground. Then he was tired with it and took up the rattle. Then he was
tired of that, and he looked across at his mother and chuckled.

His mind, however, was not at all concentrated upon her. He felt, on
this afternoon, a new, a fresh interest in things. The carpet before him
was a vast country and he did not propose to explore it, but sucking his
thumb, stroking the bear's coat, feeling the firelight upon his face, he
felt that now something would occur. He had realised that there was much
to explore and that, after all, perhaps there might be more in this
strange condition of things than he had only a little time ago
considered possible. It was then that he looked up and saw hanging
round his mother's neck a gold chain. This was a long chain hanging
right down to her lap; as it hung there, very slowly it swayed from side
to side, and as it swayed, the firelight caught it and it gleamed and
was splashed with light. His eyes, as he watched, grew rounder and
rounder; he had never seen anything so wonderful. He put down the
rattle, crawled, with great difficulty because of his long clothes, on
to his knees and sat staring, his thumb in his mouth. His mother stayed,
watching him. He pointed his finger, crowing. "Come and fetch it," she
said.

He tumbled forward on to his nose and then lay there, with his face