"Come in!" cried Nicholas Snyders. He spoke in a tone quite kind for
Nicholas Snyders. He felt so sure it was Jan knocking at the
door--Jan Van der Voort, the young sailor, now master of his own ship,
come to demand of him the hand of little Christina. In anticipation,
Nicholas Snyders tasted the joy of dashing Jan's hopes to the ground;
of hearing him plead, then rave; of watching the growing pallor that
would overspread Jan's handsome face as Nicholas would, point by
point, explain to him the consequences of defiance--how, firstly,
Jan's old mother should be turned out of her home, his old father put
into prison for debt; how, secondly, Jan himself should be pursued
without remorse, his ship be bought over his head before he could
complete the purchase. The interview would afford to Nicholas Snyders
sport after his own soul. Since Jan's return the day before, he had
been looking forward to it. Therefore, feeling sure it was Jan, he
cried "Come in!" quite cheerily.

But it was not Jan. It was somebody Nicholas Snyders had never set
eyes on before. And neither, after that one visit, did Nicholas
Snyders ever set eyes upon him again. The light was fading, and
Nicholas Snyders was not the man to light candles before they were
needed, so that he was never able to describe with any precision the
stranger's appearance. Nicholas thought he seemed an old man, but
alert in all his movements; while his eyes--the one thing about him
Nicholas saw with any clearness--were curiously bright and piercing.

"Who are you?" asked Nicholas Snyders, taking no pains to disguise his
disappointment.

"I am a pedlar," answered the stranger. His voice was clear and not