The stout, somewhat apoplectic master of the house sat at the end of the well-scrubbed, shining table in an armchair with a bright-coloured cushion. He had folded his hands across his stomach, and was staring contentedly with his round eyes at the skeleton of a fat duck; knife and fork were resting in front of him on his plate. "Good day, dikemaster!" said Haien, and the gentleman thus addressed slowly turned his head and eyes toward him. "You here, Tede?" he replied, and the devoured fat duck had left its mark on his voice. "Sit down; it is quite a walk from your place over here!" "I have come, dikemaster," said Tede Haien, while he sat down opposite the other in a corner on the bench that ran along the wall. "You have had trouble with your hired man and have agreed with my boy to put him in his place!" The dikemaster nodded: "Yes, yes, Tede; but--what do you mean by trouble? We people of the marshes, thank goodness, have something to take against troubles!"--and he took the knife before him and patted the skeleton of the poor duck almost affectionately. "This was my pet bird," he added laughing smugly; "he fed out of my hand!" "I thought," said old Haien, not hearing the last remark, "the boy had done harm in your stable." "Harm? Yes, Tede; surely harm enough! That fat clown hadn't watered the calves; but he lay drunk on the hayloft, and the beasts bellowed all night with thirst, so that I had to make up my lost sleep till noon; that's not the way a farm can go on!" "No, dikemaster; but there is no danger of that happening with my boy." Hauke stood, his hands in his pockets, by the door-post, and had thrown back his head and was studying the window frames opposite him. The dikemaster had raised his eyes and nodded toward him: "No, no, Tede,"--and now he nodded at the old man too; "your Hauke won't disturb my night's rest; the schoolmaster has told me before that he would rather sit with his slate and do arithmetic than with a glass of whiskey." Hauke did not hear this encouragement, for Elke had stepped into the room and with her light hand took out the remnants from the table, meanwhile glancing at him carelessly with her dark eyes. Then his glances fell on her too. "By my faith," he said to himself, "she doesn't look so dull now either!" The girl had left the room. "You know, Tede," the dikemaster began again, "the Lord has not granted me a son!" "Yes, dikemaster, but don't let that worry you," replied the other, "for they say that in the third generation the brains of a family run out; your grandfather, we all remember, was a man who protected the land!" The dikemaster, after some pondering, looked quite puzzled: "How do you mean, Tede Haien?" he said and sat up in his armchair; "I am in the third generation myself!" "Oh, indeed! Never mind, dikemaster; that's just what people say!" And the lean Tede Haien looked at the old dignitary with rather mischievous eyes.