. . . that with a view to this, I could wish nothing better than to see Mr. Ernest Stern in charge of the German correspondence of our firm.
Out of delicacy I avoided every allusion to an honorarium or salary. But I added:
That, if Mr. Ernest Stern would be contented to make our house—Laurier Canal, No. 37—his home, my wife had expressed herself as prepared to look after him like a mother, and that his linen would be mended on the premises.
This is the absolute truth, for Mary darns and mends very nicely. And finally:
That in our house we served the Lord.
This he can put into his pipe, for the Sterns are Lutherans. And so I sent my letter. You will understand that old Stern cannot very well transfer his business to Busselinck & Waterman if his boy is in our office. I am dying to get his answer.
And now, reverting to my book. A short while since I happened to pass through the Kalver-street, and stopped to look at the shop of a grocer, who was busy mixing a parcel of Java, ordinary, fine-yellow, Cheribon-type, a little broken, with sweepings, which interested me a good deal, for I always take notice of everything. All of a sudden I spotted a gentleman who stood next door in front of a bookshop, and whom I thought I knew. He seemed to recognize me also, for our eyes kept meeting. I must confess that I was too much taken up with the sweepings to notice at once a thing which I saw afterwards, namely that he was rather shabbily dressed. Otherwise I should have left the matter alone. But all at once the thought occurred to me that he might be a traveller for a German firm, in search of a reliable broker. He certainly had a touch of the German about him, and also of the traveller. He was very fair, had blue eyes, and in his bearing and get-up there was something of the foreigner. Instead of a suitable winter coat, he had a kind of shawl
