On presenting my carefully prepared ‘pakje’ in the post-office I felt confident enough that it was right. “Nu, mijnheer, het is zeker klaar?”
The functionary was also disposed to think that all was as it ought to be and seemed at first to be satisfied.
He nodded approval; and gave me a friendly official smile; but suddenly—as he was laying the curious object aside—his eye caught the seal I had used, and his face fell. The seal was a very simple affair, having been impressed from the back of a guilder—a beautiful new specimen that I was reserving for show when I should return to Trinity.
READ IT BACKWARDS.
“Nee, mijnheer”, he said sharply. “Heelemaal niet goed! Het moet een werkelijk zegel zijn—met letters—Uw naam!” And he drew imaginary initials on the blotting-paper with his thumb.
“Neen maar!—Mijnheer!” I exclaimed.
Words failed to come to my relief. I could think of nothing to say but “Gunst!” and in the circumstances this sounded too like a curse to venture upon. Presently however I recalled something under cover of which I could retire: “Het spijt mij erg—ik ben verbaasd—dank u vriendlijk.”
I went away sincerely regretting that I had begun this business at all. Fortunately when I hunted up the stationer once more, the man himself was at home; and after infinite rummaging in remote drawers he got me a seal with the letters N. J.,—which was a trifle like Jack O’Neill, if you read it backwards.
As that was the nearest approach I could get to my initials, and as no time was to be lost, we melted down another stick of red sealing-wax, and stamped the package over with seven gigantic seals, N. J.
I put on seven, though the official only demanded five, for I had an undefined fear that something would be wrong again. Meantime the ‘get up’ of the parcel was growing more impressive and unusual. The effect of the big letters of the seal was specially fine, the red bundle now looking as if it were bound for New Jersey.