My brother, Paul, was a pale, skinny, small creature of six. He always seemed busy in some way or the other - either hiding from my sister, or helping Joe with his instruments, or playing outside with the neighbors' dog. I must admit that he was in much better relations with my sister. For some unknown reason, it was never he who caused Mrs. Joe's uncontrollable anger. It even occured sometimes that she would smile at him, to the surprise of everyone who knew her. Every time Paul would catch a cold - which happened quite often - Jo would sit at his bedside and yell at me for not having been there when Paul went outside under the rain without his little coat on. Naturally, Paul felt a little more at ease than me in the presence of Mrs. Joe, and was not so much in need of Joe's protection when my sister found a new reason to get angry. Paul and I knew each other's most private secrets. There was something very comfortable about having a creature who was always ready to help you. Right now, as I was running home from the cemetery, I felt a very strong need to share what just happened with Paul. But at the same time I felt so embarrassed by my own weakness and by the crime that I had just committed, that I was wondering whether I would be able to look into Paul's big innocent blue eyes and tell him the truth. I also remembered how he dreamed of that pork pie and felt terrible for having given it away to that frightening man. As I came near to the forge, I saw Paul coming out.
"Pip, where 'ave you been? I was looking for you!" I was still hesitating.
"Well, you know...the carols...Paul, I have to tell you something important. But you must swear not to tell...
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