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On his return the second day, Christina had met him with sadness in her eyes. Farmer Beerstraater, an old friend of her father’s, had called to see Nicholas; not finding Nicholas, had talked a little with Christina. A hardhearted creditor was turning him out of his farm. Christina pretended not to know that the creditor was Nicholas himself, but marvelled that such wicked men could be. Nicholas said nothing, but the next day Farmer Beerstraater had called again, all smiles, blessings, and great wonder.

“But what can have come to him?” repeated Farmer Beerstraater over and over.

Christina had smiled and answered that perhaps the good God had touched his heart; but thought to herself that perhaps it had been the good influence of another. The tale flew. Christina found herself besieged on every hand, and, finding her intercessions invariably successful, grew day by day more pleased with herself, and by consequence more pleased with Nicholas Snyders. For Nicholas was a cunning old gentleman. Jan’s soul in him took delight in undoing the evil the soul of Nicholas had wrought. But the brain of Nicholas Snyders that remained to him whispered: “Let the little maid think it is all her doing.”

The news reached the ears of Dame Toelast. The same evening saw her seated in the inglenook opposite Nicholas Snyders, who smoked and seemed bored.

“You are making a fool of yourself, Nicholas Snyders,” the Dame told him. “Everybody is laughing at you.”

“I had rather they laughed than cursed me,” growled Nicholas.

“Have you forgotten all that has passed between us?” demanded the Dame.

“Wish I could,” sighed Nicholas.

“At your age–” commenced the Dame.

“I am feeling younger than I ever felt in all my life,” Nicholas interrupted her.

“You don’t look it,” commented the Dame.

“What do looks matter?” snapped Nicholas. “It is the soul of a man that is the real man.”

“They count for something, as the world goes,” explained the Dame. “Why, if I liked to follow your example and make a fool of myself, there are young men, fine young men, handsome young men–“

“Don’t let me stand in your way,” interposed Nicholas quickly. “As you say, I am old and I have a devil of a temper. There must be many better men than I am, men more worthy of you.”

“I don’t say there are not,” returned the Dame: “but nobody more suitable. Girls for boys, and old women for old men. I haven’t lost my wits, Nicholas Snyders, if you have. When you are yourself again–“

Nicholas Snyders sprang to his feet. “I am myself,” he cried, “and intend to remain myself! Who dares say I am not myself?”

“I do,” retorted the Dame with exasperating coolness. “Nicholas Snyders is not himself when at the bidding of a pretty-faced doll he flings his money out of the window with both hands. He is a creature bewitched, and I am sorry for him. She’ll fool you for the sake of her friends till you haven’t a cent left, and then she’ll laugh at you. When you are yourself, Nicholas Snyders, you will be crazy with yourself–remember that.” And Dame Toelast marched out and slammed the door behind her.

“Girls for boys, and old women for old men.” The phrase kept ringing in his ears. Hitherto his new-found happiness had filled his life, leaving no room for thought. But the old Dame’s words had sown the seed of reflection.

Was Christina fooling him? The thought was impossible. Never once had she pleaded for herself, never once for Jan. The evil thought was the creature of Dame Toelast’s evil mind. Christina loved him. Her face brightened at his coming. The fear of him had gone out of her; a pretty tyranny had replaced it. But was it the love that he sought? Jan’s soul in old Nick’s body was young and ardent. It desired Christina not as a daughter, but as a wife. Could it win her in spite of old Nick’s body? The soul of Jan was an impatient soul. Better to know than to doubt.