"Well, I'm quite satisfied with him myself. And—er—h'm—he'll be my boy's father-in-law too, you know, in a way."
Vindt stood a moment sniffing at the stump of his cigar, then, thrusting one finger into the buttonhole of Holm's coat, he said solemnly:
"Mrs. Emilie Rantzau and [daughter]: Knut G. Holm and son and Banker Hermansen, Knight of the Order of Vasa, etcetera. H'm. That's the worst of these cheap smokes; they stick when you've got half-way. So long, old stick-in-the-mud!"
"Queer old stick," said Holm to himself as the other walked away. "Getting quite crabby of late. But he ought to have married himself long ago."
And Holm went home to make arrangements for a thoroughly festive evening.
X
THE SHIP COMES HOME
It was Sunday. Bramsen and Andrine had had a settling up, the day before, of various matters outstanding, and the savings-bank book had been handed over, with its "Cr. balance 19s. 6½d."—being all that remained from the interregnum period of Bramsen's term of office as Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Andrine opened the book and stood aghast.