fe, glanced down to the arched doorway
upon Monsieur the manager. Then the black eyes disappeared within, and
Kristian Koppig thought again, and re-opening his shutter, stood up at
the window prepared to become a bold spectator of what might follow.

But for a moment nothing followed.

"Trouble over there," thought the rosy Dutchman, and waited. The manager
waited too, rubbing his hat and brushing his clothes with the tips of
his kidded fingers.

"They do not wish to see him," slowly concluded the spectator.

"Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap!" quoth the knocker, and M. de la Rue looked up
around at the windows opposite and noticed the handsome young Dutchman
looking at him.

"Dutch!" said the manager softly, between his teeth.

"He is staring at me," said Kristian Koppig to himself;--"but then I am
staring at him, which accounts for it."

A long pause, and then another long rapping.

"They want him to go away," thought Koppig.

"Knock hard!" suggested a street youngster, standing by.

"Rap, rap"--The manager had no sooner recommenced than several neighbors
looked out of doors and windows.

"Very bad," thought our Dutchman; "somebody should make him go off. I
wonder what they will do."

The manager stepped into the street, looked up at the closed window,
returned to the knocker, and stood with it in his hand.

"They are all gone out, Monsieur," said the street-youngster.

"You lie!" said the cynosure of neighboring eyes.

"Ah!" thought Kristian Koppig; "I will go down and ask him"--Here his
thoughts lost outline; he was only convinced that he had somewhat to say
to him, and turned to go down stairs. In going he became a little vexed
with himself because he could not help hurrying. He noticed, too, that
his arm holding the stair-rail trembled in a silly way, whereas he was
perfectly calm. Precisely as he reached the street-door the manager
raised the knocker; but the latch clicked and the wicket was drawn
slightly ajar.

Inside could just be descried Madame John. The manager bowed, smiled,
talked, talked on, held money in his hand, bowed, smiled, talked on,
flourished the money, smiled, bowed, talked on and plainly persisted in
some intention to which Madame John was steadfastly opposed.

The window above, too,--it was Kristian Koppig who noticed that,--opened
a wee bit, like the shell of a terrapin; Presently the manager lifted
his foot and put forward an arm, as though he would enter the gate by
pushing, bu