,
commonly known as Pitter Nilken, the manager of the small shop in the
back premises. Worse's property had consisted of an entire building, of
which the front looked out towards the sea and the quay where the
steamers were moored, and at the back was a little dark lane, where
Pitter Nilken had his shop. Worse never liked anybody to allude to the
shop; he considered that he was far too respectable a man of business
for anything of the sort. He used to say that it was mostly for old
Samuelsen's sake, that he kept the little shop going; it could have no
importance in a concern like his.

[Footnote A: "Boston" is a game of cards, and the
"Boston-parti" is a club, the members of which meet and play
at each other's houses.]

Mrs. Worse had also believed this story; but that afternoon she learnt
to think otherwise. It was quite clear to her, after hearing Mr.
Samuelsen's figures and calculations, that the shop was not at all to be
despised, and she came at last to perceive that this was what had really
so long kept everything going.

The two sat over their figures far into the night. At first
comprehension seemed quite hopeless to Mrs. Worse. The explanations she
had heard from her husband's friends and creditors during the last few
days were so complicated, and couched in terms beyond her understanding;
but with Peter Samuelsen it was quite otherwise. He never went on until
he was quite sure that she comprehended what he said. At length it all
began to dawn upon her, and she kept on repeating, "I declare, it is all
as clear as daylight."

Next morning she ordered her carriage and drove off alone. The scandal
this excited in the town was beyond description. To think that she, who
scarcely owned the very clothes on her back, should have the audacity to
drive in a carriage and pair before the very noses of those whom her
husband had swindled! The general feeling towards her had hitherto been
favourable, and several people could not help feeling a mischievous
delight at the idea of seeing the haughty Mrs. Worse live on a monthly
allowance. But now all were as hard as stone. Mrs. Worse herself did not
seem to be so nervous as she was the day before, and when she entered
Consul Carman's office, with Pitter Nilken's papers under her arm, her
step was as firm and confident as a man's.

It was now several years since Worse had left the firm, but some
ill-feeling had long remained on both sides, and the deceased an