IV
While still in her early twenties, Keith's mother had spent two years with an English family living in Sweden. She always described her position as that of "lady companion" to the mistress of the house. As a little boy, Keith did not know enough to ask any embarrassing questions. Having learned more of life, he began to suspect that his mother's place might have been little better than that of a servant, and the thought of it made his soul shrink and wither.
When the family moved back to England, Keith's mother went along and spent a whole year in London. It was her great adventure, the phase of her past of which she spoke most eagerly and lovingly. She had formed a passionate liking for the English language, of which she had picked up a good deal, as well as for English character and English manners. She never tired of telling about the great city of London, and Keith never tired of listening.
"I was so homesick when I first got there," she would say, "that I cried day and night. Then, one night, I heard a cat mewing on the roof outside my window. It was the first Swedish sound I had heard since I came to England, and after that I felt much better."
"Why didn't you stay," asked Keith.
"Because then there would have been no little Keith," she explained, her face lighting up with the kind of grown-up smile that always provoked and perplexed the boy.
"Are there no boys in England," he persisted.
"Yes, plenty of them, and fine ones at that. But I wanted no one but you, and you were here, and so I had to come back to get you."
"Here," he repeated. "Where here?"