But of all these men, the most aggressively active, the most despotic in his measures, was Pix, the manager of the provincial traffic department. His domain began in the office, and extended throughout the house, and far into the street. He was the divinity of all the country shopkeepers, who looked upon him as the real head of the business. He arranged the whole exports of the house, knew every thing, was always to be found, and could do half a dozen things at once. Like all dignitaries, he was impatient of contradiction, and fought for his opinions against the merchant himself with a stiff-neckedness that often horrified Anton. One of his peculiarities was that of abhorring a vacuum as much as nature herself. Wherever there was an empty corner, a closet, a cellar, a recess to be discovered, there Pix would intrude with tuns, ladders, ropes, and all imaginable commodities; and wherever he and his giant band of porters had once got a footing, no earthly power could dislodge them--not even the principal himself. "Where is Wohlfart?" called Mr. Schroeter from the door of his office. "Up stairs," calmly replied Pix. "What is he doing there?" was the amazed inquiry. At that moment loud voices were heard, and Anton came thundering down the steps, followed by a servant, and both laden with cigar-boxes, while behind them appeared the female relative in much excitement. "They will not tolerate us up stairs," said Anton, hurriedly, to Pix. "Now they have actually come to the laundry," said the lady, just as hurriedly, to the principal. "The cigars can not stand down here," declared Pix to both. "And I will not have cigars in the laundry," cried the distant cousin. "I declare there is not a place in the house safe from Mr. Pix. He has filled the maid-servants' rooms with cigars, and they complain that the smell is intolerable." "It is dry up there," explained Mr. Pix to the merchant. "Could you not, perhaps, place them elsewhere?" inquired the latter, respectfully. "Impossible!" was the decided reply. "Do you really require the whole laundry, my dear cousin?" said the principal, turning to the lady. "The half of it were ample," interpolated Pix. "I hope, Pix, you will content yourself with a corner," said the head of the firm, by way of decision. "Tell the carpenter to run up a partition at once." "If Mr. Pix once gets admittance, he will take the whole of our laundry," expostulated the too experienced cousin. "It is the last concession we will make," was the reply. Mr. Pix laughed silently--or grinned rebelliously, as the lady phrased it; and, as soon as the authorities were out of sight, sent Anton up again with the cigar-boxes.