son remarked to his father that there was some living thing in the box.
For the prisoner in the anguish of his confinement had not been able to
restrain a slight movement.

"Do you hear what my son says?" cried the skipper to Elsje. "He says you
have got something alive in your trunk."

"Yes, yes," replied the cheerful maid-servant; "Arminian books are always
alive, always full of motion and spirit."

They arrived at Daatselaer's house, moving with difficulty through the
crowd which, notwithstanding the boisterous weather, had been collected
by the annual fair. Many people were assembled in front of the building,
which was a warehouse of great resort, while next door was a book-
seller's shop thronged with professors, clergymen, and other literary
persons. The carriers accordingly entered by the backway, and Elsje,
deliberately paying them their ten stuivers, and seeing them depart, left
the box lying in a room at the rear and hastened to the shop in front.

Here she found the thread and ribbon dealer and his wife, busy with their
customers, unpacking and exhibiting their wares. She instantly whispered
in Madame Daatselaer's ear, "I have got my master here in your back
parlour."

The dame turned white as a sheet, and was near fainting on the spot. It
was the first imprudence Elsje had committed. The good woman recovered
somewhat of her composure by a strong effort however, and instantly went
with Elsje to the rear of the house.

"Master! master!" cried Elsje, rapping on the chest.