Literature was another new subject.  They read and analysed and criticized classical Swedish poetry—­Tegner and Runeberg and Geijer.  Most of the poems chosen for the purpose were historical and took their themes from the old viking days or from the glorious centuries of Gustavus Adolphus and Charles XII, when Sweden so nearly rose to be a great power.  Keith liked to take certain sonorous passages into his mouth.  There was a satisfying fullness and richness about them that seemed somehow to enhance his own feeling of self-importance.  Their rhythm also pleased him and became a sort of substitute for the singing of which he was incapable.  Chiefly, however, it was the stories told by the poems that interested him, and on the whole he did not think much of poetry.  But this opinion he never dared to put into words.  To do so in the face of Dally’s clearly manifested reverence would have been like openly confessing a particularly degrading form of inferiority.

Nor did it seem to matter so very much what he studied.  The main thing always remained what Dally said and did in his efforts to bring out something within the self of each boy for which only he seemed to have an eye.  Keith at times felt as if he would give anything to know what Dally expected of him in particular.  He felt sure that it must be something wonderful, and he had odd moments of almost being on the verge of grasping it, but in the end it always eluded him, and no sooner was he out of Dally’s presence than the whole thing seemed very unreal and foolish.

IX

Young Davidson had a bent toward sarcasm that sometimes lured him out of his usual cold aloofness.  In one of these rare communicative moments he said of little Loth that he crossed the equator at least once a week and didn’t mind.  He referred to the fact that Loth was more frequently moved than any other pupil but always managed to retain a place near the centre.  And no matter what fate might bring him of ups or downs, Loth always retained a perfect composure.  Yet he was small and nervous and highstrung like Keith and Bauer.  One day Keith asked him how he could stand being shoved about like that.

“Because my father says I am going into business anyhow,” answered Loth, “and I don’t know whether I hate business or books most.”

“What would you like to do,” asked Keith looking puzzled.

“Draw,” said Loth vaguely, “and play the piano, and go to the theatre, and—­yes, and read poetry books that don’t teach you anything.”

This view of life was so new to Keith that he really tried to become acquainted with Loth in order to learn more about it.  His own indifference to anything but books promised small success, but in the end a tie was found in their common love of tin soldiers.  So he was admitted to Loth’s particular circle and was even invited to Loth’s home for a birthday party—­the first and last of its kind that he attended during his five years at Old Mary.  Before permitted to go, he was warned that the servant girl would come for him at nine.  No amount of pleading helped to ameliorate that condition.