from the kitchen behind her, and the squeaking
of rats about the basement entrance at night annoyed her not at all.
She had her own telephone here, her own fireplace, and she was
comfortably accessible for the maids--there were two maids now--for the
butcher and ice-man. Between her and the kitchen was a small dark
space, named by herself the "Cold Lairs," where she had a wash-stand
and a small bath-tub. A bead of gas burned here night and day, but if
Teddy ever became REALLY naughty he was to be placed in here as
punishment and the gas turned out entirely. Teddy had never deserved
this terrible fate, but he did not like the Cold Lairs, where his
little crash wash-rag and his tiny toothbrush glimmered at him in the
half-light, and where he always smelled the raw smell of the lemon his
mother kept to whiten her hands.

He idolized his mother; they had a separate game for every hour and
every undertaking of his happy day. He climbed out of his crib, in his
little faded blue pajamas, for uproarious tumbling and pillow-fighting
every morning. Then it was seven o'clock, and she told him a story
while she dressed, and recited poems and answered his questions. There
was a game about getting all the tangles out of his hair, the father
and mother tangles, and the various children, and even the dog and cat.
Then for months it was a game to have her go on washing Teddy's face as
long as he cried, and stop short when he stopped, so that after a while
he did not cry at all. But by that time he could spell "Hot" and "Cold"
from the faucets, and could clean out the wash-stand with great soaping
and scrubbing all by himself.

Then he and Mother went into the big dark kitchen, where Henny and
Aurora were yawning over the boarders' breakfasts, Henny perhaps
cutting out flat little biscuit, and Aurora spooning out prunes from a
big stone jar with her slender brown thumb getting covered with juice.
His mother stirred the oatmeal, and, if it were summer, sometimes
quickly and suspiciously tasted the milk that was going into all the
little pitchers. Then they went upstairs.

The boarders had their meals at little separate tables now, and the
"family," which was Mother and Nana, and Aunt Adele and Uncle John,
were together at the largest table at the back where the serving and
carving were done, and where the big shiny percolator stood. Teddy knew
all the boarders--old Colonel and Mrs. Fox from the big upstairs
bedroom, and Miss Peet and