h to the actual consumer of the piece
left behind. Keith was a docile child in spite of his impulsiveness and
he did he was told and believed what he heard, but he often wondered why
the rules so strictly enforced himself did not apply to his parents.

"Afternoon coffee," generally accompanied by some form of sweet bread or
cake, "happened" about 5:30, and at 8 supper was served. The final meal
was commonly made up of sandwiches with porridge and milk, or perhaps,
when fate was remarkably propitious, thin pancakes with cranberry jam.
There might be an extra snack of food at a still later hour in case of
unexpected callers, but such visits were not frequent and Keith would be
asleep by that time anyhow.

It was different when parties were given to formally invited company.
Then Keith had to stay up--or pretend to do so--as long as the guests
remained, and he must have a share of whatever the house had to offer.
To such occasions he looked forward with feverish joy, not so much on
account of the good things dispensed as for the sake of feeling the
ordinary strict rules relaxed. Apart from Christmas, the principal
celebrations took place on his parents' birthdays and "namedays." Every
day in the Swedish calendar carries a name, and all those bearing it
have a right to expect felicitations and presents from their relations
and more intimate friends. In return they are expected to celebrate the
occasion with a party that gives an excuse for showing what the house
can do in the way of hospitality. The same thing applies to the birthday
anniversaries, only in a higher degree. Not to celebrate one's birthday
can only be a sign of poverty, miserliness or misanthropy, and to
overlook the birthday anniversary of a close relative is to risk an
immediate breach of connections.

Nothing was more familiar to Keith than his mother's open worries about
money and his father's occasional stern reference to the need of saving.
To the boy those complaints and warnings meant merely that the parents
were in a depressed and unfaourable mood, tending to draw the usual
constraint a little tighter about him. He was intensely sensitive to
atmosphere, and too often that of his home had the same effect on his
young soul as the low-hanging, leaden skies of a Swedish December day
before the first snow has fallen. It made him long for sunlight, and the
parties brought it to some extent. Then care and caution were forgotten,
although his father might