though Frans had become more restless since the
boy left home. He had fallen into his old habit of
going out for a stroll every evening before nine
o'clock, and now that he couldn't do this, he became
irritable, he was disagreeable with the customers and
served them carelessly. Werendonk, who got up
sooner than he should have done, remained poorly.
He had to sit up late to clear up the muddle the
cash in the till had got into, and he didn't get to bed
until after three in the morning.
The season was bitterly cold, the ice-flowers were
thick on the window-panes and, in spite of the
mittens he wore, he could hardly hold the pen in
his hand. For several nights past he had heard a
crackling sound, he thought that the wood was being
affected by the sudden cold. One evening some
great flakes of paint fell from a beam in the ceiling
on to the table. After that he noticed that the
wall-paper was peeling off. Werendonk began to
fear that it was growing serious, for in the bedroom,
too, and in Floris's attic room, both of them also
facing on to the yard, flakes of paint were found,
and in the attic, moreover, there was a crack in the
wainscoting. But the creaking and crackling was
heard by none save Werendonk as he sat alone at
the table in the evening and all was quiet in the
house. Never, so long as he could remember, had
it been necessary to do any structural repairs, for,
although the house was probably a couple of hundred