He might be forty, or he might be sixty, it was not easy to tell.

In his monotonous life there had only been one single event which he particularly remembered, and that was the afternoon when he had taken his books and calculations in to Mrs.Worse, and since that time he had, with the greatest honesty, helped her to overcome her many difficulties.

Mr.Samuelsen had also his own private enemies to contend against, and these consisted of nearly all the school children in the town.

It had always been, and was still, a favourite amusement for the children to "Sing for Pitter Nilken." The game was carried on in the following manner.

Boys and girls all assembled, the more the merrier, generally in the dusk of the evening, and sneaked quietly down into the alley at the back of the Worses' house, and when they got under Samuelsen's shop-window, they began singing, to a well-known air-- "Little Pitter Nilken, Sitting on his chair! He's always growing smaller, The longer he sits there." This couplet was repeated again and again, each time in a louder tone, until the tormented man seized his iron ruler and sprang over the counter.