how Elizabeth was to help him in the management of the whole.

Madam Garvloit only made one slight objection--

"You know that you can't drink ale, my friend."

Another objection, namely, what they would say at home in Norway when
they heard that her husband had sunk into a mere tavern-keeper, she very
wisely kept to herself. The important point was that they should find a
way of living, and they had at all events the great consolation that now
they would be able to keep Elizabeth. What feeling of pride still
remained she got rid of in telling Elizabeth that at home they knew
nothing of millionaires in wooden shoes such as were to be found in
Holland; and her husband found her much more keen for his project than
he had expected. Being accustomed to place great reliance upon her
stronger understanding, he would not have been happy if she had been
against the plan.

Thus it came about, then, that in the crowded street by the canal one
Monday morning there appeared over one of the entrance-doors a
sign-board with "The Star," in letters of gold on a blue ground. It was
set up at a fortunate time and in a fortunate place, and almost as soon
as the house was opened, customers from the vessels in the harbour began
to gather in, both into the down-stairs and up-stairs rooms, so that
there was a prospect of a steadily increasing traffic. Garvloit
generally presided himself in the bar behind the counter, at the lower
end of which there stood an array of stone mugs with tin lids; while in
a recess of the wall there stuck out from beside canisters of tobacco,
long and short Dutch clay pipes, a new one filled being handed to every
customer, with whatever drink he ordered. Out of sight under the counter