The boy slips out of a deadly dull afternoon tea in which two ladies are talking about clothing. He finds himself in the book-lined library next door and finding one door-stopper packed with pictures, he lies on the thick hearth-rug to flick through a glorious book which transports him to fantasy worlds.

Until the enemy discovers his escape, lifts him from his dream world by the scruff of his neck, and all hell breaks loose.

‘This was altogether a more sensible sort of room that I had got into; for the walls were honestly upholstered with books, though these for the most part glimmered provokingly through the glass doors of their tall cases. I read their titles longingly, breathing on every accessible pane of glass, for I dared not attempt to open the doors, with the enemy encamped so near.’

Source: Kenneth Grahame, Dream Days, illus. by Maxfield Parrish (Edin.: Paul Harris Publishing, 1983), p. 109

Photo credit: Peter Oswald,, palace in Graz


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