A dread, a sort of feeling that something might happen in regard to that expensive outlay of goods left by the travelling salesman, seized Nancy. She crept to the top of the stairs to listen, but all she could hear was a man's voice; his words were lost behind the closed doors. She ventured down to the second landing. Her mother was chatting pleasantly with whoever the early visitor might be, and at the sound Nancy's spirits rose. "He's no collector," she decided, turning quickly back to her room and starting at once to dress. She must be ready early. All signs pointed to an early patronage, and although Ted had declared he would be up at daybreak, it was all right, Nancy concluded, for him to sleep until seven o'clock. Her mother was calling in a subdued voice. "Nancy, I'll get breakfast now, as I hear you stirring," she said. "I want to leave things ready for your lunch today, so I came down early." "All right, Mother," Nancy replied over the balustrade. "I'll be down soon. Who called?" "Is Ted awake?" Mrs. Brandon was still restraining her voice. "He was, but he isn't," half whispered Nancy. "Wait, I'll run down and help, then come up and dress later--" Curiosity was too much for Nancy's patience, so she merely tucked her hair tidily into a cap, and in slippers and robe joined her mother who was preparing breakfast. "Who was it?" she asked breathlessly. "Why, your famous Mr. Sanders," replied Mrs. Brandon, indifferently. "He wanted a little model of some sort, a windmill, it looked like. I happened to spy it--" "The funny little windmill!" Nancy exclaimed. "Why, we were wondering what that was. Did he say it was a model?" "Not exactly, but I judged it was. At any rate, dear, you mustn't always be looking for mystery in Mr. Sanders' doings. I would call him a very pleasant gentleman. Here, dear, stir this cereal. I want you and Ted to make sure you get enough proper food." Nancy stirred the meal, which was receiving a preliminary start before being put over the hot water in the double-cooker. "But you see, Mum," she remarked very quietly, "he is queer. Whatever could he want a thing like that for? And why did he come for it so early?" Nancy asked. "He wanted it because it has something to do with his line, is the way he expressed it, and he came early because he has been away and just heard of your sale. If he waited later, he explained, the little windmill might have been swept away in the tumult," Mrs. Brandon replied. This seemed to satisfy Nancy's inquiries, but secretly Mrs. Brandon herself was just a little puzzled about Mr. Sanders. For instance, it had been very clear to her that he just laughed off, rather than explained, the purpose of the possible model. Something "in his line," which he had forgotten to take away when the Townsends moved, seemed vague, to say the least.