“I’m Rolandsen, of the Telegraph,” says Big Rolandsen, stepping forward. He was not a little drunk, and his eyes glared stiffly, but being a man of the world, there was no hesitation in his manner. Ho, that Rolandsen, a deuce of a fellow! No one had ever seen him at a loss when it came to mixing with grand folk, and throwing out elegant bits of speech. “Now if only I knew enough,” he went on, addressing the priest, “I might introduce us all. Those two there, I fancy, are the lay-helpers. These two are your farm-hands. And this is Ferdinand.” And the priest and his wife nod round to all. _Goddag! Goddag!_ They would soon learn to know one another. Well ... the next thing would be to get their things on shore. But Lay-helper Levion looks hard at the deck-house, and stands ready to wade out once more. “Aren’t there any little ones?” he asks. No answer; all turn towards the priest and his wife. “If there won’t be any children?” asks the lay-helper again. “No,” says the boatman. The lady flushed a little. The chaplain said: “There are only ourselves.... You men had better come up and I’ll settle with you now.” Oh, a rich man, of course. A man who would not withhold his due from the poor. The former priest never “settled” with people at all; he only said thanks, and that would be all “for now.” They walked up from the quay, Rolandsen leading the way. He walked by the side of the road, in the snow, to leave place for the others; he wore light shoes, in his vain and showy way, but it did not seem to hurt him; he even walked with his coat unbuttoned, for all it was only May and the wind cold. “Ah, there’s the church,” says the priest. “It looks old,” says his wife. “I suppose there’s no stove inside?” she asks. “Why, I can’t say for certain,” answers Rolandsen. “But I don’t think so.” The priest started. This man, then, was no church-goer, but one who made little distinction between week-day and Sabbath. And he grew more reserved thenceforward. Jomfru van Loos is standing on the steps; Rolandsen introduces her as well. And, having done so, he takes off his hat and turns to go. “Ove! Wait a minute!” whispered Jomfru van Loos. But Rolandsen did not wait a minute; he took off his hat once more and retired backwards down the steps. Rather a curious person, thought the priest. _Fruen_[2] had gone inside at once. She was feeling a little better now, and began taking stock of the place. The nicest and lightest room she assigned to her husband as a study, and reserved to herself the bedroom Jomfru van Loos had occupied before. [2] The mistress--_i.e._, the priest’s wife. A married lady is often referred to as _Fruen_, or addressed as _Frue_. In the present book, the name of the priest is not stated; he is referred to throughout as _Præsten_, and his wife as _Præstefruen_, or _Fruen_ simply. [Illustration] II