“Little boys should be civil,” suggested Granny with a glance at the cap.  “And they should also remember that equals make the best playmates, and that all is not gold that glistens.”

“Oh, he’s my equal,” Keith declared triumphantly.

“With plenty to spare,” retorted Granny.  “But are you his?”

It made Keith walk home alone the next day, and as he shuffled along listlessly, the almost obliterated memory of Harald came back to him.

XVI

The attraction had been established, however—­on one side at least—­and it would not let itself be smothered.  Nor did Keith make any strong effort in that direction.  It was not his way.  He found it as hard to abstain from what gave him pleasure for the moment as to bear whatever seemed unpleasant or painful.

Murray made no approaches of any kind, but he did not resist.  His acceptance of Keith’s friendship was purely passive, and there was always a limit to it.  At first they simply walked home together from school.  Of course, they sat side by side during the lessons, but Murray gave his whole attention to the teacher or to his book.  If Keith tried to whisper to him, Murray merely frowned at him.  During the pauses they were often together, chatting or playing, but it could also happen that Murray chose to mix with some group of fellow pupils in such a manner that Keith could not get near to him.  Sometimes Keith would then also join them.  More often he would hover on the outskirts in a state of utter misery.

Even when the school closed for the day, it depended entirely on Keith if they were to have company home.  Murray never waited.  If Keith was not in sight when he reached the street, he went right on.  Several times Keith had to run several blocks to overtake his friend.

“Why couldn’t you wait a minute for me,” he asked when he had recovered his breath after one of those pursuits.

“Oh, that’s so silly,” was Murray’s only reply, and a repetition of the question on two or three subsequent occasions brought no more satisfactory response.  Keith did not press the matter beyond that point and uttered no protest at Murray’s real or assumed indifference.

Until then Keith had always taken East Long Street on his way to school in the morning.  Now he turned invariably down the lane to the Quay.  On reaching the corner, he took a long look at the corner house where Murray lived.  Two mornings he saw no one and walked on.  The third morning Murray happened to appear just as Keith reached the corner.  After that Keith waited for his friend, and they walked together to as well as from school.  Having waited very long one morning and fearing that his friend had passed already, Keith ventured into the house, when he caught sight of Murray coming out of a door reached by a little spur of the main stairway.

“Is that where you live,” asked Keith.