The boys got on very well together, and yet no real friendship sprang up between them.  Albert, who attended a different school, had his own associates, and Keith could not take much of his mind off Murray.  It made a great improvement in Keith’s living conditions, however, and he hoped it would last.

When Albert went home to celebrate Christmas, Keith was asked to pay him a visit after the holidays.  This invitation became still more attractive when Keith received a fine pair of skates for a Christmas present.  He had never seen the country in winter, and the impression it made on him was a little startling.  The sight of the dark pines against the white carpet of the snow filled him with a mystic longing so strong that it almost frightened him.  When he and Albert put on their skates and stretched out at full speed across the lake that spread its floor of dark glass within a stone’s throw of the vicarage, he had a sense of never having lived before.  The spaciousness of the house and the pleasant evenings spent cracking nuts and eating apples in front of the blazing fire-place were also revelations that filled his mind with many new thoughts.  Why was his own home not like this?

The boys went back to Stockholm together, but before they started, Keith learned that Albert was going elsewhere to live.  An aunt of his had offered to take him in for the rest of the season.

“And, of course,” said Albert’s mother apologetically, “when you can be with your own kin, it is better you know.”

Keith wondered a little.  On his return home, his mother said indignantly that she supposed their humble home had not been found good enough.  A few weeks later the parlour was rented in the old way to a gentle-looking young man with very pink cheeks who coughed a good deal.

And Keith once more found himself restricted to the living-room for all the time spent at home.

XX

Keith had been home for lunch and was on the way back to the school.  He was alone.  Murray was in bed with some slight ailment.

It was in January, a cold but brilliant day.  The streets were covered with deep snow.  Everything that usually moved on wheels was now on runners.  As runners make no noise and the sound of the hoofs was deadened by the snow, every horse carried a bell, and some of them had a whole little chime.  The bright sunlight on the white snow and the tinkling of all those bells made a stimulating combination, and people hurried along with smiling faces, although they had to rub their noses and cheeks frequently to keep them from freezing.

Keith was never sensitive about his face, but his hands were buried deeply in his coat pockets.  His schoolbooks were tied up in a leather thong and slung over his shoulder like a knapsack.