to him. His tears ceased. But now his body was shaken by a convulsive
sob. On the whole his mood was one of hopeless resignation.



XVIII

"I am glad to see you, mother," said Keith's father, rising quickly as a
little old woman appeared in the kitchen doorway. His tone surprised the
boy. There was warmth in it, but still more of reverence bordering on
awe, and also something of pride. Thus might a queen be greeted, but
only by those nearest and dearest to her. What struck the boy most of
all, however, was the world of difference lying between that tone and
the one in which the father addressed his wife even in moments of
closest understanding. It gave Keith his first clear glimpse of the
distinction between love and respect, between sympathy and trust.

"So you are home, Carl," the grandmother remarked in her usual quiet,
matter-of-fact manner. Then she turned to her daughter-in-law, who had
also risen to her feet: "Is your head as bad as usual, Anna?"

"Thank you," answered Keith's mother, and the boy could sense that she
was not at her ease although she smiled pleasantly. "Those new powders I
got from Dr. Sköld helped a great deal."

"Hm," grunted the older woman as she walked across the room and sat down
on a chair not far from Keith. "I had no time or money to bother with
powders at your age, but times have changed."

She was taking in every detail of the room as she spoke, without looking