Not only the bird-cages, but the workbox, and all the implements, were removed; and the piece of embroidery, the taking up of which had made Philip recoil, as if he had touched an adder, was put away with the rest.  Philip had left the keys on the floor.  Amine opened the buffets, cleaned the glazed doors, and was busy rubbing up the silver flagons when her father came into the room.

“Mercy on me!” exclaimed Mynheer Poots; “and is all that silver?—­then it must be true, and he has thousands of guilders; but where are they?”

“Never do you mind, father; yours are now safe, and for that you have to thank Philip Vanderdecken.”

“Yes, very true; but as he is to live here—­does he eat much—­what will he pay me?  He ought to pay well, as he has so much money.”

Amine’s lips were curled with a contemptuous smile, but she made no reply.

“I wonder where he keeps his money; and he is going to sea as soon as he can get a ship?  Who will have charge of his money when he goes?”

“I shall take charge of it, father,” replied Amine.

“Ah—­yes—­well—­we will take charge of it; the ship may be lost.”

“No, we will not take charge of it, father; you will have nothing to do with it.  Look after your own.”

Amine placed the silver in the buffets, locked the doors, and took the keys with her when she went out to prepare breakfast, leaving the old man gazing through the glazed doors at the precious metal within.  His eyes were riveted upon it, and he could not remove them.  Every minute he muttered, “Yes, all silver.”

Philip came downstairs; and as he passed by the room, intending to go into the kitchen, he perceived Mynheer Poots at the buffet, and he walked into the room.  He was surprised as well as pleased with the alteration.  He felt why and by whom it was done, and he was grateful.  Amine came in with the breakfast, and their eyes spoke more than their lips could have done; and Philip sat down to his meal with less of sorrow and gloom upon his brow.

“Mynheer Poots,” said Philip, as soon as he had finished, “I intend to leave you in possession of my cottage, and I trust you will find yourself comfortable.  What little arrangements are necessary, I will confide to your daughter previous to my departure.”

“Then you leave us, Mr Philip, to go to sea?  It must be pleasant to go and see strange countries—­much better than staying at home.  When do you go?”

“I shall leave this evening for Amsterdam,” replied Philip, “to make my arrangements about a ship, but I shall return, I think, before I sail.”

“Ah! you will return.  Yes—­you have your money and your goods to see to; you must count your money—­we will take good care of it.  Where is your money, Mr Vanderdecken?”

“That I will communicate to your daughter this forenoon, before I leave.  In three weeks at the furthest you may expect me back.”