there proud and haughty. He called to her. She did not hear.

"O God! she despises me. I deserve it for my cowardice at Holsma's."

"Boy," said the woman behind the bar, "we don't have any bellowing
here. If you want to bellow go to your mother."

Easier said than done. He couldn't move a peg, such was the press. He
was shoved against the counter; and it was impossible for him to keep
sight of Femke. The tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"What are you doing in such a crowd anyway?" continued the woman,
"when you're so weak. You look as flimsy as a dish-rag. What have
you been doing? Let me give you a glass of cognac."

He would have been only too glad to pay for his place; but, as he
"received at home everything that he needed," he did not have
the wherewithal. Still, there was no danger of his being thrown
out. The crowd, which was threatening to expend its remaining
energy in destroying the liquids of the place, was now occupying the
barmaid's attention. I should say Mrs. Goremest's attention. She was
the proprietress.

The girl continued to hold her position of advantage. There was
something scornful in her features. "Who dares!" she seemed to say.

Walter was feeling bad. She looked over in his direction, but without
seeing him. He called; but she did not hear.

Then the fellow with the flashy cap and sailor jacket appeared in the
door. He had not been one of the belligerents; but he had suffered
the fate of neutral powers. As his clothing testified, both parties
had been his enemies.

So intent was the fellow on getting in that he did not even take time
to return the shoves and cuffs that he received. Twice, three times
he was crowded back; for where so many want the same thing, it isn't
easy to obtain. Nevertheless, he had one advantage over the others,
who sought only a resting-place and a glass of liquor. He was incited
by something else.

Walter hoped with all his heart that the fellow would succeed in
reaching Femke. She looked so lonely in the midst of that wild mob. If
he had been stronger, he would have--but she wouldn't have anything to
do with him. Wouldn't she push him off, just as she did the insolent
fellow who first caught hold of her apron?

The girl seemed now to spy the sailor. She nodded to him and smiled,
as if to encourage him. Or was she thanking him for his fidelity? Her
smile bore the message that she was uninjured, and fearless. Yes,
she stood there a statute of repose.

T