"Mercy," cried the other boy after having watched him for a while. "You
can take it home and read it, if you only promise to bring it back."

For a moment Keith was too overcome to speak. Then he became hysterical
with joy. The rest of the school day passed in a trance. He ran a good
part of the way home. Arrived there, he almost forgot to give his mother
and Granny the inevitable kiss of greeting. And he might even have
refused to be bothered by such a thing but for his fear of being put
under some discipline that might prevent him from plunging straightway
into the unexplored country of make-believe.

On seeing the book, his mother hesitated for a moment, but soon she was
delighted with the results it produced. Keith had no thought of asking
leave to see Johan that day. He was lost to the world around him. Not a
sound was heard from him. There was no nervous running about in futile
search for "something to do." The home was as quiet as if he had been
away, and yet there he was, safely ensconced in his own corner, where
his mother could watch him all the time.

Everybody was happy until the father returned home and heard of what had
happened. Having looked the book over for a moment, while the boy
watched him with a shrinking heart, he said at last:

"You must return it tomorrow, and I don't want you to borrow any more
books. You may spoil it in some way, and then you will have to pay for
it, and where are you to get the money?"

Keith tried hard not to cry, but the blow was too overwhelming. He was
driven out of his new paradise after a tantalizing glimpse at it. And he