her ... and in the midst
of it all a pause laden with rose-coloured melancholy....

"Why can it not be Christmas every day," asked Keith suddenly.

"Because Christmas then would be like any other day," the father
replied, reaching for the first parcel which was always for Keith.

One by one they were handed out. Each one was elaborately addressed and
furnished with a rhymed or unrhymed tag that often hid a sting beneath
its clownish exterior. The father read the inscription aloud before he
handed each parcel to its recipient, who had to open it and let its
contents be admired by all before another gift was distributed.

The table became crowded. The floor was a litter of paper. Lena giggled.
Granny's cap was down on one ear. Keith could not sit still on
his chair.

"To Master Keith Wellander," the father read out. "A friendly warning,
to be remembered in the morning and all through the day. He who slops at
meals is a pig that squeals and hurts his parents alway."

Keith took the parcel with less than usual zest. It was rectangular and
very heavy. For a moment he hesitated to open it. There was something
about its inscription that puzzled and bothered him.

At last the wrapper came off, and he gazed uncomprehendingly at a large
piece of wood hollowed out like a canoe.

"A boat ..." he stammered.

"A trough," rejoined his father, a strange, almost embarrassed look
appearing on his face. "This is Christmas and I want you to be happy,
but you must learn to eat decently, and I thought this might serve you
as a lesson and a reminder."

Keith said nothing. He sat looking at that piece of wood as if it were a
dragon that had swallowed the whole Christmas in a single gulp. He
wanted to cry, but for the first time he seemed to feel a pride that
forbade him to do so....

"Master Keith Wellander," the father read out again with evident haste
and in a voice which he tried to make very jolly, "When beaten in the
open field, this will be my trusty shield."

It was _the_ package--and the trough was forgotten.

The boy trembled with excitement. His hands tore vainly at the paper
cover, which, in the end, had to be removed by the father.

On the table, fully revealed at last, stood a real fortress of
cardboard, with a drawbridge that could be raised, and a tower in the
centre, and at the top of it a flagstaff flying the Swedish colours.

It was his heart's most cherished desire, the thing that had seemed so
unattainable