The physical sensation gave the boy a terrible shock.  No one had ever really hurt him before.  The spankings administered at home once in a very great while were like thunderstorms, with a great deal of noise and small harm done.  This was something else, and more intimidating than the pain was the manifest intention of the teacher to inflict it.  Her face was tense and her eyes flashed fire.  Worst of all, however, was the shame of it, for the punishment was applied in front of the whole school.

When Keith retired to his own seat sobbing bitterly, he felt that he could never look the other children in the face, and that they probably would shun him as a pariah.  The only thing would be to tell his mother that he could not go back to school again.  He was still shaking with sobs, when he heard a boy on the chair behind him whisper into his ear: 

“Oh, that’s nothing.  You just wait till she pulls your hair.  She pulls it right out by the roots.  I’ll show you a bare spot on my head during the next pause.”

And so he did when the lesson came to an end and they were permitted to play for a few minutes.  Other children joined them, and no one seemed to think less of Keith for what had happened to him.  It was a revelation to him and opened vistas of considerable interest.  But the memory of the physical and mental shock received was more powerful, and after that he took care to reach school in time regardless of what might be the temptations along his path or the effort it might cost him to get there.

In fact, the incident became to some extent determining for his whole career in school.  He never voluntarily did anything that might expose him to punishment, and rarely was he able to forget himself to the extent of incurring reproof.  He turned out a docile pupil, and on the whole, docility did not come hard to him.  In spite of the vitality with which he overflowed, there was a certain timidity attaching to him.

VII

It would be wrong to conclude that the little school of the Misses Ahlberg was characterized by any reign of terror.  As a rule, the atmosphere was peaceful and kindly, and the teaching was rather good.  Keith was eager to learn, and learning came easy to him.  In those early days, of course, there was no studying to be done at home, but even in later years he never knew what it was to “plug.”  In fact, he could not do it.  Either his interest was aroused, and then he absorbed the matter at hand in the way he breathed, without the least conscious effort; or his interest remained unstirred, in which case no amount of mechanical application would help.  Learning by rote offered no escape in the latter case, for his memory operated in the same way as the rest of his mind, sucking up what fitted it as a blotter sucks the ink, and presenting a surface of polished marble to any matter not germane according to its own mysterious standards.