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Updated: June 2, 2025
The inevitable testing of the boy's cleverness by making him tell his own name led to a discussion of family names in general, Keith's mother expressing a great admiration for that of Wellander. "Oh, yes, it's good enough," remarked her sister-in-law, "but it is not the right one, you know, and the old one was much finer." "I know," said the mother, "but I don't know what the name used to be."
Then he pulled and shook, shook and pulled, until the hand came away with big tufts of hair showing between the fingers. Again absolute silence reigned for a moment. "Ugh," blew the teacher, his anger changed to a look of embarrassment. "I am not going to speak another word to you, Wellander, during the rest of the term. Sit down!" "I am going home," he announced almost triumphantly.
Then he asked suddenly: "You'll go on to the university, Wellander, won't you you with your brilliant mind?" Keith looked at him in dumb astonishment. In spite of his two prizes, it was so strange to be called brilliant. And then the question of going to the university had been raised. Until then he had really never given a thought to it. And the question of cost leaped into his mind.
But when the attack was over, he asked me if I couldn't hear that the cough was much better. What do you think I ought to do?" "Nothing," the father replied once more. Keith was ready to start for school next morning when he heard Hilda utter a startled cry in the parlour. "Fru Wellander! Fru Wellander!" she called.
Keith listened like the rest, a little enviously perhaps, but without serious attention, for it had just occurred to him for the tenth time that the situation would have been so much less unbearable if only his father had stayed away. "... this pupil is Keith Wellander of the Second Grade," the Rector concluded. A murmur swept the hall, and Keith felt himself the centre of many eyes.
"Humph," was Dally's only audible comment as he made a note, but he looked as if he had tasted something unpleasant. "And you, Wellander," asked the teacher. "I am going to be an explorer," replied Keith without moment's hesitation, and the whole class broke into a roar of laughter with Dally joining them. Keith, as usual, blushed a deep crimson, but did not move.
Then, as his eyes ran down the page, his face turned almost purple. Suddenly he raised the book over his head and threw it on the floor with such force that the cover was torn off. A moment of ominous silence followed. Keith was red up to the roots of his hair. "Wellander," the teacher roared. Keith rose none too quickly from his seat without looking up. "I don't want to touch it again."
At no moment, however, did it occur to him that the same thing might have happened to himself or might happen some time in the future. He was Keith Wellander, to whom such things never happened. He was nearly home when he suddenly stopped in the middle of East Long Street and said to himself: "Now I suppose I'll never get leave to go skating again."
Once, when his hand went up as usual and, to his astonishment, he obtained the permission to answer, Keith, to his still greater astonishment, suddenly discovered that he had no answer to give. "I thought so," said Dally with a broad grin on his good-humoured face. "Do you know what a fuzzy-wuzz is, Wellander?"
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