Ola lifted his cap and scratched his head. "Why, you haven't left it behind, then, Captain, or what?"
"Why, it's like this, Ola; there's expenses, you know, on a voyage—oh, but it's no good trying that on; he knows all about it himself. H'm ... I wish to goodness I could think of something."
Nils Petter frowned, and looked across at the cask of whisky. Ola, noticing the direction of his glance, observed consolingly that it ought to be a welcome present. "Ay, if that was all," said Nils Petter, "but the beggar's a teetotaller."
They landed at the quay. Nils Petter and Ola got the cask ashore, and rolled it together over to Bernt Jorgensen's house. The owner was out in the garden, eating cherries with the parson, who had come to call.
At sight of the latter, Nils Petter gave Ola a nudge, and ordered him to take the cask round the back way, while he himself walked solemnly up to his brother and saluted.
"You've made a quick voyage," said Bernt Jorgensen, his voice trembling a little. "I'd been expecting to hear from you by letter before now, though." And he looked up sternly.
"Yes—yes, I suppose ... you're thinking of the freight," said Nils Petter, inwardly deciding that it might be just as well to get it over at once, especially now the parson was here.
"It was always my way to send home the freight money as soon as I'd drawn it," said Bernt Jorgensen quietly.
"Expenses come terribly heavy in Dundee just now," said Nils Petter. "And—and—well, it's hard to make ends meet anyhow these times."
Here an unexpected reinforcement came to his aid. The parson nodded, and observed that he heard the same thing on all sides; hard times for shipping trade just now. The parson, indeed, never heard anything else, as his parishioners invariably told him the same story, as a sort of delicate excuse for the smallness of their contribution.