Wanderers Part 22

"Maybe because I'm going away," I answered. "I've a good long way to go between now and Monday morning."

"Then perhaps we ought to have a parting gla.s.s tonight?"

There was some giggling at this, as a well-deserved thrust at me for keeping back the wine that miserly fas.h.i.+on. But I did not know these girls, and cared nothing for them, otherwise I had acted differently.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I've bought three bottles of wine that I've to take with me to a certain place."

"And you're going to carry it all that way?" asked the girl, amid much laughter. "As if there were never a store on the road."

"Frkenen forgets that it's Sunday tomorrow, and the stores on the road will be shut," said I.

The laugh died away, but I could see the company was no more kindly disposed towards me now for speaking straight out. I turned to the wife, and asked coldly how much I owed her for the time I had stayed.

But surely there was no hurry--wouldn't it do tomorrow?

I was in a hurry--thank you. I had been there two days--what did that come to?

She thought over it quite a while; at last she went out, and got her husband to go with her and work it out together.

Seeing they stayed so long away, I went up to the loft, packed my sack all ready, and carried it down into the pa.s.sage. I proposed to be even more offended, and start off now--that very night. It would be a good way of taking leave, as things were.

When I came into the room again, Petter said:

"You don't mean to say you're starting out tonight?"

"Yes, I do."

"You've no call to heed the girls' nonsense, anyway."

"_Herregud_, let the old fellow go if he wants to," said his sister.

At last the deputy and his wife came in again, stiffly and stubbornly silent.

Well! And how much did I owe them?

H'm! They would leave it to me.

They were all alike--a mean and crafty lot; I felt myself stifling, and picking out the first note that came to hand I flung it at the woman.

Was that enough?

H'm! A tidy bit, for sure, but still.... And some might say 'twas enough, but....

How much was it I had given her?

A five-Kroner note.

Well, perhaps it was barely enough; I felt in my pocket for some more.

"No, mother, it was a ten-Kroner," said Petter. "And that's too much; you'll have to give him something back."

The old woman opens her hand, looks at the note, and turns so very surprised all at once.

"Why, so it is, ten Kroner, yes.... I didn't properly look. Why, then, 'tis right enough, and many thanks...."

Her husband, in embarra.s.sment, starts talking to the two lads of what he'd been reading in the paper; nasty accident; hand crushed in a thres.h.i.+ng-machine. The girls pretended not to notice me, but sat like two cats all the time, with necks drawn in and eyes as thin as knife blades. Nothing to stay for here--good-bye to them all.

The old woman comes out in the pa.s.sage and tries making up to me.

"If only you'd lend us just one of those bottles now," she says, "'twould be a real kindness, that it would. With the two lads sitting there and all."

"_Farvel_," said I shortly, and would hear no more.

I had my sack over my shoulder, and the sewing-machine in one hand; it was a heavy load, and the muddy road made things no easier. But for all that I walked with a light heart. It was a miserable business altogether, and I might as well admit I had acted a trifle meanly.

Meanly? Not a bit! I formed myself into a little committee, and pointed out that those infernal girls had planned to entertain their sweethearts with my wine. Well and good; but was not my ill-will towards that idea male selfishness on my part? If two strange girls had been invited, instead of two young men, should I not have uncorked the wine without a murmur? Certainly! And then as to their calling me an old fellow; after all, it was perfectly right. Old indeed I must be, since I took offence at being set aside in favour of stray plough-boys....

But my sense of injury cooled down in the course of that hard walking.

The committee meeting was adjourned, and I toiled along hour after hour with my ridiculous burden--three bottles of wine and a sewing-machine.

It was mild and slightly foggy; I could not see the lights of a farm till quite close up, and then mostly the dogs would come das.h.i.+ng out on me and hinder me from stealing into a barn. Later and later it grew; I was tired and discouraged, and plagued myself too with anxiety about the future. Had I not already wasted a heap of money on the most useless trash? I must sell that sewing-machine again now, and get some of it back.

At long last I came to a place where there was no dog. There was still a light in the window, and, without more ado, I walked up and asked shelter for the night.

XXVIII

A young girl sat at a table sewing; there was no one else in the room.

When I asked for shelter, she answered brightly and trustingly that she would see, and went into a little room at the side. I called after her as she went that I would be glad only to sit here by the stove till daylight.

A little after the girl came in again with her mother, who was still b.u.t.toning her clothes about her. _G.o.dkvaeld!_ Shelter for the night?

Well, well, there wasn't that room in the place they could make me properly comfortable, but I'd be welcome to the bedroom, such as it was.

And where would they sleep themselves?

Why, it was near day now, and the girl'd be sitting up anyhow for a bit with her sewing.

What was she sewing to sit up for all night? A new dress?

No, only the skirt. She was to wear it to church in the morning, but wouldn't hear of her mother helping.

I brought up my sewing-machine, and said jestingly that a skirt more or less was a mere trifle for a thing like this. Wait, and I'd show them.

Was I a tailor, then?

No. But I sold sewing-machines.