Keith's heart seemed to stop. He even ceased weeping. Then he heard his
mother cry out:

"If you touch the boy, I'll throw myself out of the window!"

"Oh, hell!" came back from the father. With that he half dropped and
half flung the boy to the floor, so that the latter rolled across the
room and landed under the chaiselongue.

There Keith lay, still as a mouse, until he was pulled out by his
mother. He didn't begin to cry again, and he was no longer scared or
upset. A few moments later he was undressing and going to bed as if
nothing had happened.

Another week had hardly passed, when Keith was waked up again at night,
but this time by a noise as if the house was falling. As he sat up in
bed, staring wildly about him, his nostrils became filled with a smell
that was quite new to him. It was like smoke, but more pungent.

The living-room was dark, but the door to the parlour stood open, and
light came through it. Not a sound could be heard for a few moments.

Then his mother came running into the room and flung herself on her
knees beside the chaiselongue.

"Oh, my boy, my boy, my boy!" she cried over and over again as she
pressed Keith to her breast, rocking him back and forth.

A few seconds later the father also came in carrying the lamp in one
hand. Having put it on the dining table, he dropped down on a chair as