ASLAKSEN. I mean that I must make the paper pay in another way. Heaven knows I should be sorry to do it. Before you came I made an honest living out of accidents and suicides and other harmless things, that often hadn’t even happened. But now you have turned everything topsy-turvy; people now want very different fare—— STENSGÅRD. Just let me tell you this: if you break loose in any way, if you go a single step beyond my orders, and try to exploit the movement in your own dirty interests, I’ll go to the opposition printer and start a new paper. We have money, you must know! We can bring your rag to ruin in a fortnight. ASLAKSEN. [_Pale._] You wouldn’t do that! STENSGÅRD. Yes, I would; and you’ll see I can edit a paper so as to appeal to the great public. ASLAKSEN. Then I’ll go this instant to Chamberlain Bratsberg—— STENSGÅRD. You? What have you to do with him? ASLAKSEN. What have _you_ to do with him? Do you think I don’t know why you are invited here? It’s because he is afraid of you, and of what you may do; and you are making capital of that. But if he’s afraid of what you may do, he’ll be no less afraid of what I may print; and _I_ will make capital of that! STENSGÅRD. Would you dare to? A wretched creature like you——! ASLAKSEN. I’ll soon show you. If your speech is to be kept out of the paper, the Chamberlain shall pay me for keeping it out. STENSGÅRD. Try it; just try it! You’re drunk, fellow——! ASLAKSEN. Only in moderation. But I’ll fight like a lion if you try to take my poor crust out of my mouth. Little you know what sort of a home mine is: a bedridden wife, a crippled child—— STENSGÅRD. Off with you! Do you think I want to be soiled with your squalor? What are your bedridden wives and deformed brats to me? If you stand in my way, if you dare so much as to obstruct a single one of my prospects, you shall be on the parish before the year’s out! ASLAKSEN. I’ll wait _one_ day—— STENSGÅRD. Ah, you’re coming to your senses. ASLAKSEN. I shall announce to the subscribers in a handbill that in consequence of an indisposition contracted at the fête, the editor—— STENSGÅRD. Yes, do so; I daresay, later on, we shall come to an understanding. ASLAKSEN. I trust we may.—Remember this, Mr. Stensgård: that paper is my one ewe lamb. [_Goes out by the back._ LUNDESTAD. [_At the foremost garden door._] Ah, Mr. Stensgård!