ne, much narrower and darker than their
own. It was exciting, the passage through the tunnel, which he could see
with his mind's eye--but the part of conspirator did not appeal to him.
He had seen policemen on the street several times. They were very tall
and carried sabres. Some time when he was conspiring they might be too
quick for him and get him before he could reach the secret stairway. It
would be much better, he decided finally, to be able to look them in the
face and say truthfully:

"I have done nothing at all!"

XVI

The regular meals of the day were four, not counting "afternoon coffee"
which was regarded as a special treat and always subject to
negotiations, though forthcoming as unfailingly as dinner or supper. It
was the natural and nominal counterpart of the "morning coffee," which
served to initiate the day's feeding. This first meal was consumed
separately, as each person was ready for work, and on the whole its name
was appropriate, although plenty of bread went with the coffee. Keith's
turn came generally a little after seven, when he sat down to a large
cup or bowl of half coffee and half milk into which had been broken a
good sized piece of hard Swedish rye-bread. A little sugar was allowed,
but no butter. This regimen began when Keith was less than three years
old, and he enjoyed it immensely, provided the bread had steeped long
enough to become soft, When, at last, he turned to rolls and butter
dipped into the coffee, it did not mean that his taste had changed, but
merely that his increasing sense of manhood found the earlier dish
too childish.

Breakfast was due about ll:30 and consisted generally of sundry
left-overs from the preceding day, bread and butter forming one of the
principal ingredients. Then came the main meal of the day, dinner,
between 3:30 and 4 in the afternoon. As a rule it had only two courses:
some meat dish or fish with potatoes, and a soup served last. Now and
then there was a vegetable. Desserts were reserved for special
occasions. To Keith each such meal was inseparably connected with the
parental admonition: "Eat plenty of bread with your meat, child." The
bread was of the hard kind already referred to--thin round cakes that
one broke to pieces and that gave the teeth plenty of work. Various
superstitions were invoked to promote the consumption of it. Thus the
failure to finish a piece already broken off was alleged to result in
the transfer of all one's strengt