The demonstrative _pater familias_ where I boarded gave me some trying times: he was always putting his arms around me in a jolly, teasing way that was hard to resist; it offended my dignity, yet I could not manifest my full displeasure for fear of hurting the feelings of his daughters, my friends; I thought it would be painful to them to see their father rebuffed, so, evading him when I could, when I couldn’t, I bore it with poor grace. Besides, I was displeased to have these demonstrations before the children, my pupils--the demure young teacher was very jealous of her dignity. One of the sons, about my own age, was a fine-grained youth; we and his sisters had good times together, but something happened one evening which made me furious: I was lying down, half asleep, dimly conscious of the light and voices in the adjoining room, when I was startled by a light kiss on my cheek. Thinking it was one of the girls, or one of the little boys who was very affectionate, I lazily opened my eyes and saw the guilty young man standing there, shaking with laughter. His merriment was short-lived. Whatever I said made him feel sheepish and contrite, for I felt that he had done me an irreparable wrong. There was no pose in this: it seemed a real violation. No one, since when in childhood I had stopped playing kissing-games--no boy or man, except my relatives--had kissed me, and now this was done and couldn’t be undone! I was a long time outgrowing my futile regret. Thereafter the reprimanded youth was properly respectful to the Offended Being who grudgingly pardoned him.