encountered in the course of his journey were chained up, and
could not reach him provided he adhered to the Narrow Way. The
little boy thought seriously of tying a rolled-up tablecloth to
his back to represent Christian's pack; in his white suit, he
might perhaps then pass for a pilgrim, and the strip of carpet
down the centre of the passage would make an admirable Narrow Way,
but it all depended on whether the crocodile, bears, and
hunchbacks knew, and would observe the rules of the game. It was
most improbable that the crocodile had ever had the Pilgrim's
Progress read to him in his youth, and he might not understand
that the carpet representing the Narrow Way was inviolable
territory. Again, the bears might make their spring before they
realised that, strictly speaking, they ought to consider
themselves chained up. The ferocious little hunchbacks were
clearly past praying for; nothing would give them a sense of the
most elementary decency. On the whole, the safest plan seemed to
be, on reaching the foot of the stairs, to keep an eye on the
distant lamp and to run to it as fast as short legs and small feet
could carry one. Once safe under its friendly beams, panting
breath could be recovered, and the necessary stolid look assumed
before entering the hall.

There was another voyage, rich in its promise of ultimate rewards,
but so perilous that it would only be undertaken under escort.
That was to the housekeeper's room through a maze of basement
passages. On the road two fiercely-gleaming roaring pits of fire
had to be encountered. Grown-ups said this was the furnace that
heated the house, but the little boy had his own ideas on the
subject. Every Sunday his nurse used to read to him out of a
little devotional book, much in vogue in the "sixties," called The