where the stone mugs stood was the ale-barrel, with its bright tap over
a vessel that caught the drip; and after the same cleanly Dutch fashion,
spittoons filled with sand stood in every corner of the room. The
shelves above were filled in rows with a regular apothecary's shop of
bottles and jars of spirits, and among them a goodly array of
securely-fastened, dark-green flasks of Dutch hollands.

Elizabeth had as housekeeper quite as much as she could do, and did not
directly busy herself with waiting, unless there was something
particular required to be done for the up-stairs customers.
Occasionally, however, she would come into the bar also, on some errand
or another, or to make sure that nothing was wanted; and the fame of
handsome Elizabeth of "The Star" contributed not a little to bring
custom to the house.

Such Norwegians as came to Amsterdam with timber--the majority unloaded
their cargoes up at Pürmurende or Alkmar--invariably patronised "The
Star." Elizabeth used to talk to them as countrymen of her own; and if
she heard that any of them had been across the Atlantic, she would
quietly, and as if quite casually, ask if perchance they had come across
or had heard anything of a sailor of her acquaintance called Salvé
Kristiansen who hailed from Arendal. No one had ever heard of him, and
she had begun to fear that he might be lost to her for ever.

One forenoon, however, when she had a great deal to do in the house, she
was passing quickly through the room up-stairs, and there sat at one of
the small tables, with an untouched mug of ale before him, a bearded man
in a blue pea-jacket. In her hurry she had set him down as some mate or
captain; but there must have been something about him that attracted her
attention, for she turned again at the door for an instant, and looked