“Yes. It takes happy people to run the world, you know.”
“Does it?”
“Certainly. That’s my humble belief anyhow. Dost believe in philosophy?”
“No time for it!” she returned.
“You’re right,” he applauded. “It’s only a pastime for lemon natures. Stick to your joy, Erna!”
Erna was indulging in more abstract matters than she had ever attempted, for she said: “I can’t help it, I suppose. I love joy and happy people. An’ fresh air, strength, freedom.” But it was Nielsen’s fault, he used such a subtle method of probing her.
“That’ll do, Erna,” he interrupted. “You have spoken. There is nothing to be added to fresh air, the breeder of strength, the breeder of freedom. This ought to be enough philosophy for one day, eh? We’ll have headaches soon, won’t we?”
“Not me!” she denied, and he laughed and added: “Then I’ll close the sermon with a little text, if I may.”
“Go ahead.”
“Whatever happens,” he bantered her; “stick to your freedom with your last dying breath!”