My father in due course arrived; Gildea’s parents, both of them, arrived likewise; there were consultations, mysterious comings and goings; it was a day of gloom and terror; for some reason I made no attempt to defend myself; it all flabbergasted, frightened, puzzled me beyond understanding. I was made to confess to Gildea and to apologize to the parents. To my own father I said nothing. He looked troubled, yet somehow not as grave as he ought to have looked. Perhaps he had his doubts.... What that fiendish headmaster, whose name I will not mention, had said behind my back, I did not know, for my father never referred to the matter afterwards, and both I and my brother were removed from the school at the end of the term. But I was severely punished--sent to Coventry for three days--for doing something I had both done and had not done, and the phrase “Criminal Judge” was burnt into my memory with letters of fire. My revenge was rather an oblique one--a fight with that headmaster’s son, though about quite another matter. With each blow I landed--and I landed several--I saw red whiskers on a boy about my own age! This digression concerning a poetry book occurs to me only now, while telling of my wickedness about the blanket. The lesson that master wished to teach me had no effect, for the simple reason that I had _not_ stolen. The fear, however, doubtless remained; the injustice scored deep, bitter wounds. I trace back to it a curious persistent dread, not entirely obliterated even now: the dread of being accused of a crime I have not committed; yet where the evidence of guilt seems overwhelming. Patanjali’s “Aphorisms” describe a method of living through in imagination all possible experiences. A series of laborious incarnations would be necessary to exhaust these experiences in the ordinary way. They can be lived out in the mind instead. In imagination, anyhow, thanks to that little school injustice, I have often tried to _realize_ the feelings of a man serving a term of imprisonment for a crime he has not committed. Patanjali’s interesting method is, at any rate, a means of opening the mind to a sympathetic understanding of many an experience one could not otherwise know. Only imagination must be sustained and very detailed, and the projection of the personality is not easy.