unfamiliar to the boy. "I might have had such a store myself, if luck
had been with me."

The idea was more than Keith could digest at once. It was too
overwhelming, and once more he looked at his father with the feeling of
wonder and awe that sometimes took hold of him almost against his
will--a feeling that clashed hopelessly with the nervous shyness
commonly inspired by the father's stern manners.

"Why didn't you get it," the boy ventured at last.

"Because I was born under the Monkey Star," replied the father grimly.

The boy wondered what kind of star that was, but still more he wondered
at the father's mood which appeared to indicate a displeasure not
directed at the questioner. Before Keith could ask anything more, they
had started across one of the open market places that line the
fresh-water side of the old City.

The place was empty except for a few closed and abandoned booths. But at
the foot of it lay rows of one-masted sailing vessels loaded halfway up
their masts with piles of fire-wood. In the background, beyond a small
sheet of water crossed by a low iron bridge, rose abruptly the rocky
walls of the South End, with funny old houses perched precariously along
their edges. Keith stared so hard at all the new things that not a
single question had a chance to escape him before they entered another
street and stopped in front of a stone house that to him looked like
a castle.

It had a real portal instead of an ordinary doorway, and the inside was