never associated with any of his schoolmates. Not one of them left a
mark on his memory as Harald had done. In a place full of girls, his
little heart never was betrayed into a single quickened beat of
anticipation. Nor did he make any new connections outside of the school
during those years. One might almost say that he had ceased to realize
the existence of things or persons except in so far as they administered
to some immediate need within himself.

Summer came early that year, and with it came a marked change. His
restlessness grew almost morbid, so that his mother found it nearly
impossible to keep him indoors. He was every minute pleading for leave
to play with Johan, and on several occasions when permission had been
granted, he and Johan left the quiet lane to play with strange boys on
the Quay. It drove his mother almost to despair, and she tried one thing
after another to keep him at home.

She was doing some embroidery at that particular time and the work
seemed to interest the boy a great deal. Sometimes, when he had given up
all hope of getting out, he could stand for many minutes at a time
watching the needle with its tail of brightly coloured yarn pass in and
out through the wide meshes of the fabric. Finally his mother suggested
that he try his hand at it, and he grabbed eagerly at that chance of
diversion. For about three days he was as devoted to his needle as any
girl. By that time he had filled a small square with a sort of design of
his own, and when his father returned home in the evening of the third
day, Keith displayed his achievement with considerable pride.

"Fine," remarked the father dryly. "Now we know what to do with him if
Uncle Granstedt does not think good him enough for a carpenter. We'll
apprentice him to a tailor. He'll make a good one, I am sure, as it