Part 32 (1/2)

He went about lending a hand here and there, and replacing any one who was ill. ”Just wait a little longer,” said the inn-keeper.

”It'll be all right in the end! You can get what you want at the store.” It was as if he were keeping Lars Peter back for some purpose of his own.

At last the spring came, heralded by furious storms and accidents round about the coast. One morning Lars Jensen's boat came in, having lost its master; a wave had swept him overboard.

”You'd better go to the inn-keeper at once,” said his two partners to Lars Peter.

”But wouldn't it be more natural to go to Lars Jensen's widow?”

asked Lars Peter. ”After all, 'tis she who owns the share now.”

”We don't want to be mixed up in it,” said they cautiously. ”Go to whoever you like. But if you've money in the house, you should put it into the bank--the hut might easily catch fire.” They looked meaningly at each other and turned away.

Lars Peter turned this over in his mind--could that be the case? He took the two thousand crowns he had put by from the sale to build with, and went up to the inn-keeper.

”Will you take care of some money for me?” he said in a low voice.

”You're the savings bank for us down here, I've been told.”

The inn-keeper counted the money, and locked it up in his desk. ”You want a receipt, I suppose?” said he.

”No-o, it doesn't really matter,” Lars Peter said slowly. He would have liked a written acknowledgment, but did not like to insist on it. It looked as if he mistrusted the man.

The inn-keeper drew down the front of the desk--it sounded to Lars Peter like earth being thrown on a coffin. ”We can call it a deposit on the share in the boat,” said he. ”I've been thinking you might take Lars Jensen's share.”

”Oughtn't I to have arranged it with Lars Jensen's widow, and not with you?” said Lars Peter. ”She owns the share.”

The inn-keeper turned towards him. ”You seem to know more about other people's affairs in the hamlet than I do, it appears to me,”

said he.

”No, but that's how I understood it to be,” mumbled Lars Peter.

Once outside, he shrugged his shoulders. Curse it, a fellow was never himself when with that hunch-backed dwarf. That he had no neck--and that huge head! He was supposed to be as strong as a lion, and there was brain too. He made folk dance to his piping, and got his own way. There was no getting the better of _him_. Just as he thought of something cutting which would settle him, the inn-keeper's face would send his thoughts all ways at once. He was not satisfied with the result of his visit, but was glad to get out again.

He went down to the beach, and informed the two partners of what he had done. They had no objection; they liked the idea of getting Lars Peter as a third man: he was big and strong, and a good fellow.

”Now, you'll have to settle with the widow,” said they.

”What, that too?” broke out Lars Peter. ”Good Lord! has the share to be paid for twice?”

”You must see about that yourself,” they said; ”we don't want to be mixed up in it!”

He went to see the widow, who lived in a little hut in the southern part of the hamlet. She sat beside the fireplace eating peas from a yellow bowl; the tears ran down her cheeks, dropping into the food.

”There's no-one to earn money for me now,” she sobbed.

”Ay, and I'm afraid I've put my foot in it,” said Lars Peter, crestfallen. ”I've paid the inn-keeper two thousand crowns for the share of the boat, and now I hear that it's yours.”

”You couldn't help yourself,” said she, and looked kindly at him.

”Wasn't it yours then?”