The name of the town doesn’t really matter; but it was a big town in the middle of the country; and the first of these adventures happened to a little girl whose name was Marian. She was only seven when it happened to her, so that it was rather a young sort of adventure; but the older ones happened later on, and this is the best, perhaps, to begin with. Marian’s house was in a street called Peter Street, because there was a church in it called St Peter’s Church; and some people liked this church, because it had a great spire soaring up into the sky. But Marian’s daddy didn’t like spires, because they were so sharp and so slippery. He liked towers better, because the old church towers, he said, were like little laps, ready to catch God’s blessing. But Marian’s daddy was a queer sort of man, and nobody took much notice of what he said…