them and arranging the things on top of them. And the father quickly
went to work in the same way.

It seemed interesting to Keith, who would have liked to try his hand at
it. But it also disconcerting for some reason he could not explain and
for a while he watched the father as if unwilling to believe his own
eyes. Somehow it did not tally with certain notions formed in Keith's
head on the night when the church was burning. At last he up to his
father and asked:

"Is this where you always work?"

"No," was the answer given with a peculiar grimness. "This is for the
officials."

"What are they?"

"Oh, tellers and cashiers and bookkeepers."

Keith noted the words for future inquiries. For the moment they meant
nothing to him.

"Why are you not here too," he persisted.

"Because I am only an attendant--a mere _vaktmästare_. That is a fact
you had better fix in your mind once for all, my boy."

"Is that your little boy, Wellander," one of the other men called out at
that moment. "Let us have a look at him."