In the evening I sit with the family in the parlour, talking. We have just finished supper, and the master of the house had put on his spectacles to read the papers. Then some one coughs outside. “There's some one coming in,” I say. The girls exchange glances and go out. A little after they open the door and show in two young men. “Come in and sit down,” says the wife. It struck me just then that these two peasant lads had been invited on the strength of my wine, and that they were sweethearts with the girls. Smart young creatures--eighteen, nineteen years old, and already up to anything. Well, if they reckoned on that wine now, they'd be mistaken! Not a drop.... There was some talking of the weather; how it was no better than could be looked for that time of year, but a pity the wet had stopped the ploughing. There was no sort of life in this talk, and one of the girls turned to me and said I was very quiet this evening. How could it be? “Maybe because I'm going away,” I answered. “I've a good long way to go between now and Monday morning.” “Then perhaps we ought to have a parting glass tonight?” There was some giggling at this, as a well-deserved thrust at me for keeping back the wine that miserly fashion. But I did not know these girls, and cared nothing for them, otherwise I had acted differently. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I've bought three bottles of wine that I've to take with me to a certain place.” “And you're going to carry it all that way?” asked the girl, amid much laughter. “As if there were never a store on the road.” “Frøkenen forgets that it's Sunday tomorrow, and the stores on the road will be shut,” said I. The laugh died away, but I could see the company was no more kindly disposed towards me now for speaking straight out. I turned to the wife, and asked coldly how much I owed her for the time I had stayed. But surely there was no hurry--wouldn't it do tomorrow? I was in a hurry--thank you. I had been there two days--what did that come to? She thought over it quite a while; at last she went out, and got her husband to go with her and work it out together. Seeing they stayed so long away, I went up to the loft, packed my sack all ready, and carried it down into the passage. I proposed to be even more offended, and start off now--that very night. It would be a good way of taking leave, as things were. When I came into the room again, Petter said: “You don't mean to say you're starting out tonight?” “Yes, I do.” “You've no call to heed the girls' nonsense, anyway.” “_Herregud_, let the old fellow go if he wants to,” said his sister. At last the deputy and his wife came in again, stiffly and stubbornly silent. Well! And how much did I owe them? H'm! They would leave it to me. They were all alike--a mean and crafty lot; I felt myself stifling, and picking out the first note that came to hand I flung it at the woman. Was that enough?