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?¶rkman, Edwin, 1866-1951

"The Soul of a Child"

They had crawled so far into his own corner by the window
that they were almost hidden behind mamma's bureau.
At first they whispered to each other, eagerly as children do, but only
with the eagerness they might have shown if playing hide-and-seek. Then
he raised her little dress, and she didn't seem to mind. He also undid
his own dress, and they studied each other's bodies, noting the
differences.
The end of it was that they laid down together on the floor. He put his
mouth to hers and hugged her just as tightly as he could. When they had
been lying in way for a while, he whispered to her:
"Isn't it nice?"
And she dutifully whispered back: "It is!"
A few minutes later they were playing with his tin soldiers, and soon
after Clara's mother returned to take her away.
During their entire play both doors had remained closed. Keith was quite
sure of that. He had looked before he started the new game, although he
was not aware of trespassing on prohibited territory.
Afterwards he felt rather uneasy. There was a distinct sense of risk
attaching to that game, and he wondered whether Clara might tell her
mother. At the same time the thought of what he had done filled him with
inexplicable satisfaction, as if, in some way, he had put something over
on the grown-ups.


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