it might not shame its grandeur--was a fruit and flower shop, and this
shop was the entrance to a street that had much life and bustle about
it. Here Bim paused with his money-box clasped very tightly to him. Then
he made a step or two and was instantly engulfed, it seemed, in a
perfect whirl of men and women, of carts and bicycles, of voices and
cries and screams; there were lights of every colour, and especially one
far above his head that came and disappeared and came again with
terrifying wizardry.

He was, quite suddenly, and as it were, by the agency of some outside
person, desperately frightened. It was a new terror, different from
anything that he had known before. It was as though a huge giant had
suddenly lifted him up by the seat of his breeches, or a witch had
transplanted him on to her broomstick and carried him off. It was as
unusual as that.

His under lip began to quiver, and he knew that presently he would be
crying. Then, as he always did, when something unusual occurred to him,
he thought of "Mr. Jack." At this point, when you ask him what happened,
he always says: "Oh! He came, you know--came walking along--like he
always did."

"Was he just like other people, Bim?"

"Yes, just. With a beard, you know--just like he always was."

"Yes, but what sort of things did he wear?" "Oh, just ord'nary things,
like you." There was no sense of excitement or wonder to be got out of
him. It was true that Mr. Jack hadn't shown himself for quite a long
time, but that, Bim felt, was natural enough. "He'll come less and