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I dare say Miss Rachel is a little bit singular, but she is not quite cracked. You see, it will all get straight in the end; it will still all come right some day." This was the refrain of all Mrs. Worse's observations on this head, and her son saw plainly it was of no use to contradict her.
Worse's eyes kindled with pride when she saw her tall, handsome son come in, dressed as he had been for the ball: but when he threw himself on the sofa, and hid his face in his hands, and said, "Oh, mother! mother!" just as he had done in his boyhood when he had done something foolish, Mrs.
Worse, wearing a new silk mantle and a new bonnet. She had telegraphed for the whole set-out to Worse's agent in Copenhagen, with whom the money had for some time been lying ready. On the box of the carriage, huddled up in a heap, sat Mr. Samuelsen. Mrs. Worse's efforts to make him take his place by her side had been unavailing; he thought it was quite bad enough as it was.
In order to keep the business afloat during the disastrous years of the war, Morten W. Garman took into partnership a rich old skipper, by name Jacob Worse, from whence sprang the name of the firm. Thanks to old Worse's money, life came again into the tottering business, and Garman's great ability made the firm, in a few years, one of the most important on the west coast.
The news awoke many painful recollections in Worse's breast, and he paced up and down in his office for a long time, before he could bring himself to begin upon the foreign post, which lay in a formidable packet on his desk. Among the letters there was one from Barnett Brothers in Paris; he knew the handwriting, but the office stamp was missing.
At first it looked as if Worse's widow and son, who carried on a small business in the town, would work themselves up again, and this was especially the case in recent years.
Her legs would no longer "balance" her properly, as she said. But still she refused to buy a carriage until all had "come right," which she thought could not be long now. When all had come right! It required a faith as blind as Mrs. Worse's to reckon on such a possibility. Rachel had now been six years in Paris without saying a word about coming home.
It was only during his illness, that they had both come to know how many ideas they had in common, and what they might have been to each other. Now it was too late, and she looked back on her wasted life with regret; for Jacob Worse's idea seemed to her quite impracticable. The day before the funeral, Madeleine was sitting in the room which looked on to the garden.
Rachel had thus to go to Jacob Worse for an explanation of her affairs, for she wanted to have a clear idea of what she really possessed, and what her exact position was. Worse answered her in a calm and measured business tone. "Well, then, this money," said she, one day, in Worse's office, "is my own, and is entirely under my own control?"
Peter Samuelsen, commonly known as Pitter Nilken, the manager of the small shop in the back premises. Worse's property had consisted of an entire building, of which the front looked out towards the sea and the quay where the steamers were moored, and at the back was a little dark lane, where Pitter Nilken had his shop.
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