two people were
there, an old woman and a pretty young girl, who both looked up in
astonishment as the men came in.

"Who's this you're bringing in, George?" asked Nanette.

"He's a peddler and he's got some trifles here you might like to look
at."

"Why, yes, you wanted a thimble, didn't you, Lena?" asked Nanette, and
the cook beckoned to the peddler. "Let's see what you've got there," she
said in a friendly tone. The old man pulled out his wares from his pack;
thimbles and scissors, coloured ribbons, silks, brushes and combs, and
many other trifles. When the women had made their several selections
they noticed that the old man was shivering with the cold, as he leaned
against the stove. Their sympathies were aroused in a moment. "Why don't
you sit down?" asked Nanette, pushing a chair towards him, and Lena rose
to get him something warm from the kitchen.

The peddler threw a look at George, who nodded in answer. "He said he'd
like to see the things they gave you after Mrs. Kniepp's death," the
young man remarked,

"Do you buy things like that?" Nanette turned to the peddler.

"I'd just like to look at them first, if you'll let me."

"I'd be glad to get rid of them. But I won't go upstairs, I'm afraid
there."

"Well, I'll get the things for you if you want me to," offered George
and turned to leave the room. The door had scarcely closed behind him
when a change came over the peddler. His old head rose from its drooping
position, his bowed figure started up with youthful elasticity.

"Are you really fond of him?" he asked of the astonished Nanette, who
stepped back a pace, stammering in answer: "Yes. Why do you ask? and who
are you?"

"Never mind that, my dear child, but just answer the questions I have to
ask, and answer truthfully, or it might occur to me to let your George
know that he is not the first man you have loved."

"What do you know?" she breathed in alarm.

The peddler laughed. "Oho, then he's jealous! All the better for me--the
Councillor was jealous too, wasn't he?" Nanette looked at him in horror.

"The truth, therefore, you must tell me the truth, and get the others
away, so I can speak to you alone. You must do this--or else I'll tell
George about the handsome carpenter in Church street, or about Franz
Schmid, or--"

"For God's sake, stop--stop--I'll do anything you say."

The girl sank back on her chair pale and trembling, while the peddler
resumed his pose of a tired old man leani