The Waif of the Cynthia | Page 5

evening all the family were gathered round the fire-place, where a
huge kettle was boiling, containing "sillsallat," or smoked herring,
salmon and potatoes.

Mr. Hersebom, seated in a high wooden chair, was making a net, which
was his usual occupation when he was not on the sea, or drying his fish.
He was a hardy fisherman, whose skin had been bronzed by exposure
to the arctic breezes, and his hair was gray, although he was still in the
prime of life. His son Otto, a great boy, fourteen years old, who bore a
strong resemblance to him, and who was destined to also become
famous as a fisherman, sat near him. At present he was occupied in
solving the mysteries of the rule of three, covering a little slate with
figures, although his large hands looked as if they would be much more
at home handling the oars.
Erik, seated before the dining-table, was absorbed in a Volume of
history that Mr. Malarius had lent him. Katrina, Hersebom, the
goodwife, was occupied peacefully with her spinning-wheel, while
little Vanda, a blonde of ten years, was seated on a stool, knitting a
large stocking with red wool.
At their feet a large dog of a yellowish-white color, with wool as thick
as that of a sheep, lay curled up sound asleep.
For more than one hour the silence had been unbroken, and the copper
lamp suspended over their heads, and filled with fish oil, lighted softly
this tranquil interior.
To tell the truth, the silence became oppressive to Dame Katrina, who
for some moments had betrayed the desire of unloosing her tongue.
At last she could keep quiet no longer.
"You have worked long enough for to-night," she said, "it is time to lay
the cloth for supper."
Without a word of expostulation. Erik lifted his large book, and seated
himself nearer the fire-place, whilst Vanda laid aside her knitting, and
going to the buffet brought out the plates and spoons.
"Did you say, Otto," asked the little girl, "that our Erik answered the
doctor very well?"

"Very well, indeed," said Otto enthusiastically, "he talked like a book
in fact. I do not know where he learned it all. The more questions the
doctor asked the more he had to answer. The words came and came. Mr.
Malarius was well satisfied with him."
"I am also," said Vanda, gravely.
"Oh, we were all well pleased. If you could have seen, mother, how the
children all listened, with their mouths open. We were only afraid that
our turn would come. But Erik was not afraid, and answered the doctor
as he would have answered the master."
"Stop. Mr. Malarius is as good as the doctor, and quite as learned,"
cried Erik, whom their praises seemed to annoy.
The old fisherman gave him an approving smile.
"You are right, little boy," he said; "Mr. Malarius, if he chose, could be
the superior of all the doctors in the town, and besides he does not
make use of his scientific knowledge to ruin poor people."
"Has Doctor Schwaryencrona ruined any one?" asked Erik with
curiosity.
"Well--if he has not done so, it has not been his fault. Do you think that
I have taken any pleasure in the erection of his factory, which is
sending forth its smoke on the borders of our fiord? Your mother can
tell you that formerly we manufactured our own oil, and that we sold it
easily in Bergen for a hundred and fifty to two hundred kroners a year.
But that is all ended now--nobody will buy the brown oil, or, if they do,
they pay so little for it, that it is not worth while to take the journey. We
must be satisfied with selling the livers to the factory, and God only
knows how this tiresome doctor has managed to get them for such a
low price. I hardly realize forty-five kroners now, and I have to take
twice as much trouble as formerly. Ah, well. I say it is not just, and the
doctor would do better to look after his patients in Stockholm, instead
of coming here to take away our trade by which we earn our bread."

After these bitter words they were all silent. They heard nothing for
some minutes except the clicking of the plates, as Vanda arranged them,
whilst her mother emptied the contents of the pot into a large dish.
Erik reflected deeply upon what Mr. Hersebom had said. Numerous
objections presented themselves to his mind, and as he was candor
itself--he could not help speaking.
"It seems to me that you have a right to regret your former profits,
father," he said, "but is it just to accuse Doctor Schwaryencrona of
having diminished them? Is not his oil worth more than