heard, and he remembered. You don't understand papa. He
doesn't want you to ask for things because he finds it such a pleasure
to figure out what you want and give it to you unexpectedly."

Keith returned to his corner thinking hard, as was his wont at times.
The siege was postponed. He took out the trough and studied it
carefully. It would make a good boat. Then he put it down and sat for a
while looking at the little fortress--so like the one he could see when
he looked out of their front windows. His heart swelled, and with a rush
that nearly upset his little table, he made for his father in the
parlour, crawled up on his lap, put both arms about his neck, and kissed
him. And to his surprise he was not repelled. But a moment later his
father put him down on the floor and said in a voice that sounded a
little choked:

"Go back and play with your soldiers now."

Then came dinner, always the same on Christmas Day: _smoergasbord_;
roasted fresh ham with mashed potatoes and tiny cubes of Swedish
turnips fried in butter; rice and milk; cake and wine.

And the day ended as it had begun, happily and peacefully. Never had the
boy felt more warmly toward his father. But at dinner the next day,
which was also a holiday so that the father was at home, Keith happened
to spill something on the table cloth.

"Remember your Christmas present," said the father sharply. "You are old
enough to behave properly at table, and if you won't, we shall let you
eat in your own corner and eat out of the trough."

During the rest of that day Keith could not play with his fortress. Once
he took the trough to the window that happened to be open and
contemplated the possibility of dropping it into the lane. But his
courage failed him.

It stayed with him as part of his little stock of toys, and gradually it
came to be viewed with a certain amount of indifference. But on the rare
occasions when he was permitted to have a playmate at home, he always
managed to hide the trough under his mother's bureau. And even the mere
consciousness of its presence there would sometimes set his
cheeks burning.

V

It was summer again. The school was closed. Keith's pleas to be allowed
to play with Johan became impassioned. Consequently his parents were
pleased when Aunt Brita asked if Keith could spend a few weeks with
them in a little cottage they had hired on an island halfway between
Stockholm and the open sea.

To Keith this was a tremendous adv