He's an anspewker, isn't he?" "Yes. He's an aanspreeker, if that is what you mean to say. But what about your friend with the four heads?" "Well, as I was going to say, the doctor was left a penniless orphan at sixteen without education or friends " "Jolly beginning!" interposed Lambert. "Now, don't interrupt.

"Is that the way men dress in mourning in this country?" "Oh, no! The aanspreeker attends funerals, and it is his business, when anyone dies, to notify all the friends and relatives." "What a strange custom." "Well," said Lambert, "we needn't feel very badly about this particular death, for I see another man has lately been born to the world to fill up the vacant place." Ben stared.

Haarlem, like Amsterdam, was gayer than usual, in honor of Saint Nicholas. A strange figure was approaching them. It was a small man dressed in black, with a short cloak. He wore a wig and a cocked hat from which a long crepe streamer was flying. "Who comes here?" cried Ben. "What a queer-looking object." "That's the aanspreeker," said Lambert. "Someone is dead."