Jan held out his great hand across the littered desk.
"We parted in anger, Nicholas Snyders. It was my fault. You were in
the right. I ask you to forgive me. I was poor. It was selfish of
me to wish the little maid to share with me my poverty. But now I am
no longer poor."
"Sit down," responded Nicholas in kindly tone. "I have heard of it.
So now you are master and the owner of your ship--your very own."
"My very own after one more voyage," laughed Jan. "I have Burgomaster
Allart's promise."
"A promise is not a performance," hinted Nicholas. "Burgomaster
Allart is not a rich man; a higher bid might tempt him. Another might
step in between you and become the owner."
Jan only laughed. "Why, that would be the work of an enemy, which,
God be praised, I do not think that I possess."
"Lucky lad!" commented Nicholas; "so few of us are without enemies.
And your parents, Jan, will they live with you?"
"We wished it," answered Jan, "both Christina and I. But the mother
is feeble. The old mill has grown into her life."
"I can understand," agreed Nicholas. "The old vine torn from the old
wall withers. And your father, Jan; people will gossip. The mill is
paying?"
Jan shook his head. "It never will again; and the debts haunt him.
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