freely given,
and go. Ere long the boats will be in and the town astir. Thou hast
some room to hang it in?"

"I have a room in which no foot but mine will tread till Jan comes
back again."

"And thou wilt say no word of Jan. He must be cut loose from the past
awhile. His old life must not be a drag upon his new one. We must give
him a fair chance."

"Thou knows well I am Jan's friend to the uttermost."

Whatever of comfort Snorro found in the pictured Christ, he sorely
needed it. Life had become a blank to him. There was his work,
certainly, and he did it faithfully, but even Peter saw a great change
in the man. He no longer cared to listen to the gossip of the store,
he no longer cared to converse with any one. When there was nothing
for him to do, he sat down in some quiet corner, buried his head in
his hands, and gave himself up to thought.

Peter also fancied that he shrank from him, and the idea annoyed him;
for Peter had begun to be sensible of a most decided change in the
tone of public opinion regarding himself. It had come slowly, but he
could trace and feel it. One morning when he and Tulloch would have
met on the narrow street, Tulloch, to avoid the meeting, turned
deliberately around and retraced his steps. Day by day fewer of the
best citizens came to pass their vacant hours in his store. People
spoke to him with more ceremony, and far less kindness.

He was standing at his store door one afternoon, and he saw a group of
four or five men stop Snorro and say something to him. Snorro flew
into a rage. Peter knew it by his attitude, and by the passionate
tones of his voice. He was vexed at him. Just at this time he was
trying his very best to be conciliating to all, and Snorro was
undoubtedly saying words he would, in some measure, be held
accountable for.

When he passed Peter at the store door, his eyes were still blazing
with anger, and his usually white face was a vivid scarlet. Peter
followed him in, and asked sternly, "Is it not enough that I must bear
thy ill-temper? Who wert thou talking about? That evil Jan Vedder, I
know thou wert!"

"We were talking of thee, if thou must know."

"What wert thou saying? Tell me; if thou wilt not, I will ask John
Scarpa."

"Thou wert well not to ask. Keep thy tongue still."

"There is some ill-feeling toward me. It hath been growing this long
while. Is it thy whispering against me?"

"Ask Tulloch why he would not meet thee? Ask John Scarpa what Sunev