It caused an exceedingly painful impression, and the host almost lost his voice as he began the fourth verse. Nobody ventured to touch the dessert, and, after the hymn, the old dyer read a grace after meat.
When the coffee came, there was an oppressive silence; for some were seriously affected and distressed, others glanced uneasily at the elders. The women began to collect their cloaks, in order to proceed to the meeting-house, where there was to be a Bible-reading, Fennefos and some of the men accompanying them. But in the little office behind Sivert Jespersen's store, five or six of the elders were assembled. They lit their long clay pipes, and for some time sat smoking in silence. No one liked to begin the conversation.
"Does any one know the price of salt up at Bergen?" inquired Endre Egeland, who was always inclined to pass over anything unpleasant.
Apparently, however, no one knew anything about the price of salt. It was clear that something else had to be discussed.
"Yes; we all deserve it," sighed Sivert Jespersen. "I suppose that we have all been benefited."
"Yes, indeed," said another, "there is, in truth, much to correct and much to censure, both in you and me."
"You see the mote in your brother's eye, but not the beam in your own," said Nicolai Egeland, appropriately.
"It is not always that the advice and conversation of women folk softens a man," said the old dyer, quietly.
There was a pause, until all, even Nicolai Egeland, had taken in what was said. At last one of them remarked, "We shall require much help up on our farm this year, for the Lord has blessed both tillage and pasture."
It was a farm near the town, which was owned in common by several of the Haugians.