to telescope into
each other so that soon afterwards he found himself unable to tell if a
thing had happened during the first or last of those years. Nor did the
things he remembered have any connection with the school as a rule, and
out of all the boys and girls he met there not one remained distinct in
his memory as did the figure of Harald from the first school. When he
left the school to go home for the day, he was done with it, and nothing
followed him but what was stored in his head. And that, too, seemed
forgotten at the time, to be re-discovered later with a sense of
pleasant surprise.

And all that time things were happening to him at home and elsewhere
that, as far as importance went, stood in curious contrast to his
quickly forgotten experiences at school--things that burnt themselves
into his mind as a part of its permanent contents....

VIII

There was not a private bathroom to be found in Stockholm in those days.
One washed hands and face and neck whenever compelled to, and some
people, like Keith's father, splashed the upper part of their bodies
with water every morning regardless of weather and temperature. Once a
week every self-respecting person went to a public bath for a thorough
steaming and scrubbing.

Keith's mother did like the rest, and generally she took the boy along
as he was admitted without extra charge. Then mother and son would get
into a tremendous tub full of hot water--so large and so full that
Keith had to sit up in order to keep his head above water. He always
enjoyed it very much, and especially he enjoyed feeling his mother's
soft body close to his own.

On an occasion of this kind he had already finished his bath and was
sitting on a wooden bench beside the tub wrapped in a big sheet. The old
woman attendant stood ready with a similar sheet for his mother, who was
just stepping out of the tub facing the boy.

She was still young, and her skin, always beautiful, was aglow with the
heat of the bath and the friction of the scrubbing.

Keith stared open-eyed at her, unconscious of any particular interest,
and yet filled with a vague, slightly disturbing sense of pleasure.

Then his mother caught his glance. Their eyes met. A slight flush spread
over her face.

Grabbing the sheet from the old woman, she flung it about herself. As
she did so, he heard her say to the attendant:

"That young gentleman will have to bathe with his father hereafter, I
guess."

At first he