That evening Keith kept thinking of the story and the steps in the cellar.  He was sorry not to be able to walk up those stairs.  And there must be some old things left lying about on them.  Then he imagined himself a conspirator, hearing the police beating at the doors and making his way through the stairway and the tunnel to some quiet, unobserved doorway in another lane, 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 strength to the actual consumer of the piece left behind.  Keith was a docile child in spite of his impulsiveness and he did he was told and believed what he heard, but he often wondered why the rules so strictly enforced himself did not apply to his parents.