back of the office to live in. He
was just a peasant boy, and she reads the Bible all day and goes to
prayer-meeting at night."

"How do you know all that," wondered Keith's mother, having learned by
this time that the old woman's gossip was generally well founded
on truth.

"Oh," the grandmother said with a queer smile particular to such
occasions, "a little bird sang it to me."

"I think they must be rather low people," Keith's mother concluded.

"Perhaps," the grandmother said, "but they have plenty of religion at
least, and I don't think the boy can do much harm to Keith."

Keith ran up to the grandmother and kissed her impulsively.

That night there was a great family council. Keith's father was told
about Johan and the Gustafssons.

"I think they are about as good as ourselves," was his verdict, given in
a tone suggesting contempt for his own position rather than respect for
that of Johan's father. "But Keith has his toys, and that ought to be
enough for him."

"It _is_ rather lonely for him," the mother rejoined, "and he should get
out a little, I suppose, but I hate to have him playing about the
streets, and I fear Johan's manners are not very good."

"The best thing is to send him to school," said the father.

"What are you talking of, Carl," the mother cried. "The idea--when he is
barely five!"

"He knows more about the letters than I did when I began school at
seven," the father came back unperturbed.

"I don't think it would be very bad for him to play a little with Johan
now and then," said the mother evasively, bending down to kiss Keith,
who had snuggled up to her during the preceding talk. Then she put her
hand through his waves of almost flaxen hair, bent his head slightly
backward, looked straight into his eyes, and asked:

"You don't want to leave me, do you?"

"No," said Keith, hugging her passionately, "but I think I should like
to go to school."

The idea carried no distinct image to his mind, and he felt a little
timid toward all those unknown possibilities implied by the word school,
but this slight feeling of hesitation was swamped by a longing so
restless and so irresistible that it sent tears to his eyes, although he
could not tell himself what it was he longed for.

XXIV

It was true that Keith knew a good deal for his age. In fact, he had
mastered the whole alphabet and was making good progress in spelling
under his mother's guidance. He was eager and quick to lear