upboard under the stairs to be fetched away, and a message was left
that his place in the garret was occupied by some one else.

He did not ask why. Mrs. Olsen's silence hurt him more than if she had
cried aloud about people who drew on her "an examination and search of
the house, and other disturbances."

And then he had to go down and show himself at the forge again--to
Haegberg the master, and Anders Berg, and the journeymen, and all the
apprentices.

It was with uncertain steps and stopping time after time. What did
Anders Berg think, he wondered.

In a fit of despondency he half turned. But he must do it. So he held up
his head and began to whistle. But as he neared the coal-begrimed wooden
palings of the work-yard the whistling ceased, and he was in a cold
perspiration when he entered the gate.

Without saying a word he went to the coal-bin and began to lift some
bars of pig-iron which had to be moved aside. While he did so, no one
either greeted or spoke to him.

Anders Berg had an iron in the furnace, and it was not until he and
another man had finished hammering it out, that he came up to Nikolai
and said:

"I was sure you would come back again. Here's some work for you; you can
file these three keys."

Whereupon Nikolai was placed at one of the vices, and was soon busily at
work with both coarse and fine files.

Anders Berg's words had done him such good, had placed him at once as it
were on his feet before the whole workshop, and in his heart he made a
vow of friendship and devotion to Anders Berg for ever.

There were showers of sparks and a ringing from the sledge-hammers in
the large smithy, and sharp blows of hammers, while the files shrieked
and whistled and set one's teeth on edge. The work went on and Nikolai
thought he had never known until to-day how splendid it was to be a
smith. He might as well do the key-bit with the fine file at once, while
the key was on that side of the vice; and he filed the notch as neatly
and smoothly as if it had been intended for a chest of drawers, and not
a great pipeless key for a wooden gate.

Now came the handle. He worked away with the coarse file, until he could
scarcely hear the sledge-hammer for its shrieking.

At the anvil stood a man making clincher nails, while one of the
apprentices pulled the bellows and occasionally gathered the nails
together. They were talking and laughing, and now and again some loud
exclamation penetrated to Nikolai. It w