Wanderers | Page 7

with the endless
wrinkles round his eyes, and said: "Yes, yes, of course, you're quite
right."
And that was enough; just that bit of a smile and saying I was right
made me all glad and proud again within.
Then Frøkenen came up, and said a few words to Grindhusen; even
jested with him, asking what that red cardinal was to be stuck up there
for on the road. But to me she said nothing at all, and did not even look
at me when I took off my hat.
Dinner was a sore trial to me that day, not that the food was bad, no,
but Grindhusen, he ate his soup in a disgusting fashion, and his mouth
was all greasy with fat.
"What'll he be like when it comes to eating porridge?" I thought to
myself hysterically.
Then when he leaned back on the bench to rest after his meal in the
same greasy state, I called to him straight out:
"For Heaven's sake, man, aren't you going to wipe your mouth?"
He stared at me, wiping his mouth with one hand. "Mouth?" he said.

I tried to turn it off then as a joke, and said: "Haha, I had you there!"
But I was displeased with myself, for all that, and went out of the
brewhouse directly after.
Then I fell to thinking of Frøkenen. "I'll make her answer when I give a
greeting," I said to myself. "I'll let her see before very long that I'm not
altogether a fool." There was that business of the well and the pipe-line,
now; what if I were to work out a plan for the whole installation all
complete! I had no instruments to take the height and fall of the hill ...
well, I could make one that would serve. And I set to work. A wooden
tube, with two ordinary lamp-glasses fixed in with putty, and the whole
filled with water.
Soon it was found there were many little things needed seeing to about
the vicarage--odd matters here and there. A stone step to be set straight
again, a wall to be repaired; the bridgeway to the barn had to be
strengthened before the corn could be brought in. The priest liked to
have everything sound and in order about the place--and it was all one
to us, seeing we were paid by the day. But as time went on I grew more
and more impatient of my work-mate's company. It was torture to me,
for instance, to see him pick up a loaf from the table, hold it close in to
his chest, and cut off a slice with a greasy pocket-knife that he was
always putting in his mouth. And then, again, he would go all through
the week, from Sunday to Sunday, without a wash. And in the morning,
before the sun was up, and the evening, after it had gone, there was
always a shiny drop hanging from the tip of his nose. And then his nails!
And as for his ears, they were simply deformed.
Alas! I was an upstart creature, that had learned fine manners in the
cafés in town. And since I could not keep myself from telling my
companion now and then what I thought of his uncleanly ways, there
grew up a certain ill-feeling between us, and I feared we should have to
separate before long. As it was, we hardly spoke now beyond what was
needed.
And there was the well, as undug as ever. Sunday came, and
Grindhusen had gone home.

I had got my apparatus finished now, and in the afternoon I climbed up
to the roof of the main building and set it up there. I saw at once that
the sight cut the hillside several metres below the top. Good. Even
reckoning a whole metre down to the water-level, there would still be
pressure enough and to spare.
While I was busy up there the priest's son caught sight of me. Harald
Meltzer was his name. And what was I doing up there? Measuring the
hill; what for? What did I want to know the height for? Would I let him
try?
Later on I got hold of a line ten metres long, and measured the hill from
foot to summit, with Harald to help. When we came down to the house,
I asked to see the priest himself, and told him of my plan.

VI
The priest listened patiently, and did not reject the idea at once.
"Really, now!" he said, with a smile. "Why, perhaps you're right. But it
will cost a lot of money. And why should we trouble about it at all?"
"It's seventy paces from the house to the well we started to dig. Seventy
steps for the maids