"And you say there were already a whole lot of letters there? You see, Stoffel--if he only isn't too late! That's the way--those people would break their necks or be first. And who knows but what some of them are Roman Catholics? I wonder if they all think they're moral and well-behaved. You can just see what kind of people there are in the world!"

Walter had to go back to Maaskamp's and get the address of the firm in question. The idea was for him to call on the firm in person and thus get ahead of everybody else. Juffrouw Pieterse wanted to bet her ears that not a one of the other applicants could boast of a father who had sold Parisian shoes.

"Tell them that! Your father never took a st.i.tch in his life. He didn't even know how to. It's only to prove that we had a business, too. He never had an awl in his hand--isn't it so, Stoffel?"

Those eminently respectable gentlemen, Motto, Business & Co., lived--I don't know where they lived; but they had founded on the Zeedyk a cigar store and a circulating library. It was probably not far from the place where six or eight centuries earlier a few fishermen had founded the greatest commercial city of Europe.

Walter found one of those worthy gentlemen behind the counter. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and was engaged in weighing out some snuff for an old woman. "Business" was evidently being carried on.

As Walter had formed no conception of "responsible business firm,"

he was far from thinking that the gentlemen had claimed too much for themselves. With his peculiar timidity he even reproached himself for not having understood the conception "business" before.

Now he understood it. Business meant to stand behind a counter, in shirt-sleeves, and weigh snuff. And, too, on the Zeedyk.

The cigar store occupied only half the width of the house, and was connected with the circulating library by a side door. Motto, Business & Co. were simultaneously cultivating two industries: those who didn't care for snuff or tobacco could get something to read, and vice versa.

Over the shelves, on the tobacco side, were posted signs bearing the a.s.surance that something was "manufactured" here. Differing entirely from the Pieterses, these gentlemen seemed to think that to make a thing meant more than merely to sell it. We leave the question undecided.

Was it true that this business firm manufactured anything? The only thing they manufactured was the paper bags that were to be pasted together by the moral, well-behaved, diligent and reliable young man who was a member of the Dutch Reform Church.

The amount of business done was small, the profits barely paying the rent. The wicked world on the Zeedyk even said that the two blue porcelain vases bearing in old-fashioned letters the inscriptions "Rappee" and "Zinking," had been borrowed from a second-hand dealer in the neighborhood, and that the good man came by every day to look after his property.

The shop was small, and was closed off in the rear by a green curtain, which was calculated to make customers think there was something more beyond. To be exact, there was something beyond that curtain. There hung a dilapidated mirror, consoling with a lonely chair, which was now ornamented by the coat of the worthy senior partner; and leaning against the wall was a half-round table, on which a pomatum-pot was making fun of a comb because for years it had been expecting to grow new teeth. Business was not so exacting but that Mr. Motto could devote a little spare time to the improvement of his personal beauty. He had succeeded in developing two beautiful bunches of hair on the sides of his face. They cost him much pains and grease; but they were the delight of all the ladies who entered the shop.

"And so you want to go into business, do you?" asked Mr. Motto, after he had given the old woman a "pinch" from the jar. "What all have you studied? Reading, writing, arithmetic, French? Eh? And what are your parents."

"They dealt in shoes--from Paris, M'neer. But I don't know French. Arithmetic--yes. Went through Strabbe."

"And you know arithmetic, do you? How much then is a Pietje and a half?"

Walter stammered that he didn't know. Does the reader know?

"But you must know that if you expect to calculate. And you don't know what a Pietje is? Do you know the difference between a sesthalf and a shilling? And between a dollar and a twenty-eight piece? Look----"

Mr. Motto pulled out the cash-drawer and seemed to be hunting for a dollar; but for some reason or other he decided to make out with a sesthalf. This he laid on the counter and asked Walter to imagine a shilling lying beside it. He then proceeded to test Walter's knowledge of business by asking him to point out the differences between the two coins. Mr. Motto claimed that in business one must know these details thoroughly.

And Mr. Motto was right about it. At that time there were more different kinds of money in the Netherlands than there are in Germany now. To be able to distinguish the various coins readily and make change accurately a regular course of study was necessary. Just as a law was about to be pa.s.sed to confer the t.i.tle, "Doctor of Numismatics," on examination, the secretary of the treasury discovered that all this trouble could be spared by simplifying the money. He became very unpopular after this.

In Walter's time, though, such a reform had not been thought of. The florin had twenty stivers; the regular Holland dollar had fifty stivers, the Zeeland dollar had forty-two. The dollar was worth a florin and a half, and the gold florin was called a "twenty-eight,"

because it contained twenty-eight stivers. The coins were well-worn and seldom exhibited any traces of inscriptions, milling, etc. Matters were further complicated by three-florin pieces and ducats of sixty-three stivers, not to mention any other coins.

For Walter the money question was a serious one.

"And you don't know French, either?" in a tone that was scarcely encouraging.

"No----" mournfully.

"And would your parents put up cash security for you?"

Walter didn't understand the question.

"Caution. Don't you understand? Security! There's lots of money handled, and I must know who I'm turning the shop over to. And--do you know Danish?"

Mr. Motto did not always speak grammatically.

"No--M'neer."

"What! Nor Danish, either? But Danish sailors come in here to buy tobacco, and then you need to speak Danish. In a business like this here you must know all languages. That's the main thing--otherwise your cake's dough! I've even had Greeks to come in here."

Walter's heart gave a jump. What heroic deeds might they not do on such occasions!

"Yes, Greeks; but they were drunk and wanted a smoke for nothing. We don't do it that way. The main thing is to look out for the little things. Otherwise your cake's dough, you understand. Yes, in business you must know all languages, otherwise you can't talk to the customers. That's the main thing. But that will be all right if your parents can deposit a caution. Sometimes there are at least ten florins in the cash-drawer, you know; and in business a man must have security. That's the main thing. Otherwise your cake's dough; you can see that for yourself."

"My father is dead," said Walter, as if that fact rendered the cash security unnecessary. He didn't know anything else to say.

"That so? Dead! Yes, it often happens. Dead? All right! But haven't you a mother who can pay for you?"

"I--will--ask--her," Walter stammered.

"Certainly. Ask her right away; for you know in business things are done in a hurry. Said, done! That's the main thing. Otherwise your cake's dough. Here is another shop, and you will have work to do in there, too--if your mother can put up the money. That's the main thing."

Mr. Motto conducted Walter into the circulating library. On three sides of the room were bookcases reaching to the rather low ceiling. For the rest, the place was provided with a ladder to be used in gathering such fruits of literature as hung out of reach. And then there was a big, thick book, in which the diligent and reliable young man of Protestant faith was to enroll the names of the people who paid a dubbeltje a week for a book. It's cheaper now.

"You see," said Mr. Motto, "that is the book, so to say the great book. You understand bookkeeping, don't you?"

Unfortunately Walter had to admit that he had not yet studied that branch.

"Nor bookkeeping, either? Boy! that's the main thing in business. If a man can't do that his cake's dough. It's very simple. You write down who takes out a book, with the day and date and street and number. And when they bring the book back you drawn a line through it; and you've got a pretty kettle of fish if you don't do it. When you don't know the people you must----"

"Ask for a deposit!" cried Walter quickly, rejoiced that he knew something. It's doubtful if he knew what he was to draw the line through.

"Yes, a deposit. A florin a week for a volume. Then, you understand, when a volume's gone, the cake's dough with that volume. Later I will explain to you everything about the cigars and tobacco; but first I must know whether your mother--ask her right away! And now I've explained everything to you at least half a dozen times. For there's no lack of boys that want to go into business; but when it comes to Moses and the Prophets--then they set the bow-sails. And that's the main thing. Otherwise you look a little delicate, but I must know first if your mother can deposit a caution. Adieu!"

Walter went home in a peculiar frame of mind. At first the family did not think favorably of that "cash security." Stoffel, however, had often heard of such things, and negotiations were opened with the said firm. It was finally agreed that a deposit of one hundred florins should be made, for which the firm agreed to pay 3 1/2% interest. Juffrouw Pieterse was not quite satisfied with this, as she was accustomed to getting 4%; but "one must do something for one's children."

Stoffel, who represented the Pieterses in these negotiations, was surprised that he never got to see more than the first half of the firm--or, better, the first third. He even took the liberty of remarking on the peculiar circ.u.mstance, when he learned that the "Co." was merely ornamental, while "Business" existed only in Mr. Motto's imagination. In fact that handsome and worthy gentleman alone const.i.tuted the "responsible business firm," and like an Atlas carried on his broad shoulders all the responsibilities incident to such a complicated and extensive undertaking. It was quite natural that he should desire to put a part of the burden on the back of some diligent, reliable Protestant boy, who could furnish cash security. For that was "the main thing."

On the library side Walter developed a diligence against which only one thing could be urged: it was prejudicial to the tobacco industry adjoining. If he had smoked as much as he read, he would have made himself sick; and even his reading wasn't the best thing in the world for his health.

He devoured everything indiscriminately--whether ripe or green. Most of that literary fruit was green. In a short time he was able to foretell the fate of the hero with a certainty that would have piqued the author. The cleverest literary craftsman couldn't let the poor orphan boy be as poor as a church mouse for ten pages, but that Walter would see the flashing of the stars and knightly crucifixes with which he was to be decked out on the last page. One might think this would cause him to lose interest in the book; but, no! He was constant to the end--to the official triumph. For him it would have been a sin to call to the Saxons and Normans a second too soon: "See if Ivanhoe isn't going to smash that big-mouthed Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert!" And all the time he felt as if he were--Ivanhoe? No, as if he were the deity, who must give the hero strength to overcome that infamous scoundrel, Brian de Bois-Guilbert.

Then all at once the door-bell would ring, and the magnanimous Walter would have to occupy himself with things less chivalrous.

The only thing he could do in such moments was to weigh accurately, and not give anybody a cigar from the "tens" instead of from the "eights." Such conscienciousness, however, was futile, for in the cigar-boxes were cigars that ought to have been called "twenties." Mr. Motto said that the customers were usually drunk, and that it was all right to give them cabbage leaves to smoke. "You must size up your customer. That's the main thing."

This was something Walter never could learn. With him, ten was ten, eight eight--no matter who the customer was. To take an unfair advantage, or tell a lie never occurred to him. From fear or embarra.s.sment he might possibly tell an untruth; but if he had been asked a second time----

As strange as it may seem, this aversion to lying and deception was nourished by the books he read. The brave knight fought till he was victorious, or dead. Only the fatally wounded surrendered. All this had Walter's hearty endors.e.m.e.nt: He would not have acted differently. The beautiful heroine was loved by everybody; and the rejected suitors died of despair, or joined some desperate band. All quite proper. The good remained steadfast, in spite of the Devil and all his machinations--yes, in spite of tedium. Once selected by the author to be a high-toned, moral hero--then spotless garments! Walter wondered if such a one could have a pain in the stomach, or suffer other inconvenience. Certainly not in books!