cried to show how badly he had been treated,
especially as his mother could not be very far off.

But he had forgotten that his mother was first and last Uncle
Reuben's sister. When she caught sight of Axel sitting on the ice,
she did not come with anything soothing or consoling, but only with
that everlasting:

"Do not sit so, my little boy! Think of Uncle Reuben, who died when
he was five years old, just as you are now, because he sat down in
a snowdrift."

The boy stood up instantly when he heard her speak of Uncle Reuben,
but he felt a chill in his very heart. How could mamma talk about
Uncle Reuben when her little boy was in such distress! Axel had no
objection to his sitting and dying wherever he pleased, but now it
seemed as if he wished to take his own mamma away from him, and
that Axel could not bear. So he learned to hate Uncle Reuben.

High up on the stairway in Axel's home was a stone railing, which
was dizzily beautiful to sit on. Far below lay the stone floor of
the hall, and he who sat astride up there could dream that he was
being borne along over abysses. Axel called the balustrade the good
steed Grane. On his back he bounded over burning ramparts into an
enchanted castle. There he sat proud and bold with his long curls
waving, and fought Saint George's fight with the dragon. And as yet
it had not occurred to Uncle Reuben to want to ride there.

But of course he came. Just as the dragon was writhing in the agony
of death and Axel sat in lofty consciousness of victory, he heard
his nurse call: "Little Axel, do not sit there! Think of Uncle
Reuben, who died when he was eight years old, just as you are now,
because he sat and rode on a stone railing. You must never sit
there again."

Such a jealous old pudding-head, that Uncle Reuben! He could not
bear it, of course, because Axel was killing dragons and rescuing
princesses. If he did not look out, he, Axel, would show that he
could win glory too. If he should jump down to that stone floor and
dash his brains out, he would feel himself thrown into the shade,
that big liar.

Poor Uncle Reuben! The poor, good little boy who went to play top
out in the sunny market-place! Now he was to learn what it was to
be a great man.

It was in the country at Uncle Ivan's. A number of the cousins had
gathered in the beautiful garden. Axel was there, filled with his
hatred of his Uncle Reuben. He was longing to know if he was
tormenting any other besides himse