never kissed him before, he thought.

"It was the spire that fell just now," she said, "and if there is any
danger, your father will be here in a minute."

Almost as she spoke, the glare outside began to die down, though the sky
remained red and threatening until daybreak.

Then they had coffee, Keith being allowed an extra dose in his milk. And
soon afterwards the father returned to tell the story of the fire and
inform them that all danger was over as far as they were concerned.

For days afterwards the experiences of that night occupied Keith's mind.
The joy of excitement was probably uppermost in spite of all other
considerations, Beneath it was a vivid conception of the horrors of fire
that remained a live thing in his mind until he was well on in years,
sometimes waking him out of his sleep at night and setting his heart
palpitating wildly at the mere idea of danger. Lastly, however, there
was left from that momentous night a new attitude toward the mother that
implied a direct criticism--the first one that had ever broken into
clear consciousness. It did not make him love her less, but it changed
the character of his love in some subtle way. The father, on the other
hand, had gained by that night. There was something heroic about the
quiet way in which he walked off to take care of the bank, pushing all
other considerations aside until that duty had been filled.



XV