There was no help for it; Nils Petter was obliged to sit up, wading through all sorts of documents, company prospectuses, particulars of house property, mines, steamships, etc. etc. Secretary Pedersen left nothing unconsidered. Nils Petter all but fell asleep in his chair. And when at last he got to bed he would lie tossing and talking in his sleep, till Jantje had to get up and put cold water bandages on his head. Every morning he shuddered at the thought of that day's burdens, especially when the postman came tramping up with bundles of letters and circulars, one bigger than another.
Jantje and Nils Petter sat drinking their coffee in the kitchen, one each side of the table in front of the hearth. This was the best time of the day, Nils Petter thought; he could take it easy as in the old days, sitting in his shirt sleeves, and caring nothing for letters and investments.
Jantje, too, liked this way best; she was always uncomfortable when she had to put on her green dress.
The coffee-pot was puffing like a little steam-engine on the hob, and Jantje was cutting the new bread into good thick slices.
"Jantje!"
"Yes, husband; what is it?"
"Seems to me we were a good deal better off before we got all this money."
"Ay, that's true, that's true."
"And I don't somehow feel like moving up to Sorgenfri—it's nice and comfortable here."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, husband. I'm so glad. I'd never feel happy away from here."