Wanderers | Page 8

first floor."
"Can we, though? Up to the bedrooms? Will there be pressure enough for that, do you think?"
Here I waited longer than usual before answering, as a stolid fellow, who did not undertake things lightly.
"I think I can answer for a jet the height of the roof," I said.
"Really, now!" exclaimed the priest. And then again: "Come and let us see where you think of digging the well."
We went up the hill, the priest, Harald, and I, and I let the priest look through my instrument, and showed him that there would be more than pressure enough.
"I must talk to the other man about it," he said.
But I cut out Grindhusen at once, and said: "Grindhusen? He's no idea of this work at all."
The priest looked at me.
"Really?" he said.
Then we went down again, the priest talking as if to himself.
"Quite right; yes. It's an endless business fetching water in the winter. And summer, too, for that matter. I must see what the women think about it."
And he went indoors.
After ten minutes or so, I was sent for round to the front steps; the whole family were there now.
"So you're the man who's going to give us water laid on to the house?" said Fruen kindly.
I took off my cap and bowed in a heavy, stolid fashion, and the priest answered for me: yes, this was the man.
Fr?kenen gave me one curious glance, and then started talking in an undertone to her brother. Fruen went on with more questions--would it really be a proper water-supply like they had in town, just turn on a tap and there was the water all ready? And for upstairs as well? A couple of hundred Kroner? "Really, I think you ought to say yes," she said to her husband.
"You think so? Well, let's all go up to the top of the hill and look through the thing and see."
We went up the hill, and I set the instrument for them and let them look.
"Wonderful!" said Fruen.
But Fr?kenen said never a word.
The priest asked:
"But are you sure there's water here?"
I answered carefully, as a man of sober judgment, that it was not a thing to swear to beforehand, but there was every sign of it.
"What sort of signs?" asked Fruen.
"The nature of the ground. And you'll notice there's willow and osiers growing about. And they like a wet soil."
The priest nodded, and said:
"He knows his business, Marie, you can see."
On the way back, Fruen had got so far as to argue quite unwarrantably that she could manage with one maid less once they'd water laid on. And not to fail her, I put in:
"In summer at least you might. You could water all the garden with a hose fixed to the tap and carried out through the cellar window."
"Splendid!" she exclaimed.
But I did not venture to speak of laying a pipe to the cow-shed. I had realized all the time that with a well twice the size, and a branch pipe across the yard, the dairymaid would be saved as much as the kitchen-maids in the house. But it would cost nearly twice as much. No, it was not wise to put forward so great a scheme.
Even as it was, I had to agree to wait till Grindhusen came back. The priest said he wanted to sleep on it.

VII
So now I had to tell Grindhusen myself, and prepare him for the new arrangement. And lest he should turn suspicious, I threw all the blame on the priest, saying it was his idea, but that I had backed him up. Grindhusen had no objection; he saw at once it meant more work for us since we should have the well to dig in any case, and the bed for the pipes besides.
As luck would have it, the priest came out on Monday morning, and said to Grindhusen half jestingly:
"Your mate here and I have decided to have the well up on the hill, and lay down a pipe-line to the house. What do you think of it? A mad idea?"
Grindhusen thought it was a first-rate idea.
But when we came to talk it over, and went up all three to look at the site of the well, Grindhusen began to suspect I'd had more to do with it than I had said. We should have to lay the pipes deep down, he said, on account of the frost....
"One metre thirty's plenty," I said.
... and that it would cost a great deal of money.
"Your mate here said about a couple of hundred Kroner in all," answered the priest.
Grindhusen had no idea of estimates at all, and could only say:
"Well, well, two hundred Kroner's a deal of money, anyway."
I said:
"It will mean so much less in Aabot when you move."
The priest looked at me in surprise.
"_Aabot_? But I'm not