"Why, yes, they are, mostly. And C. H. Pettersen and Co. was an uncommon firm, I must say, both for quality and weight. I know there were some mischief-making folk used to say he sold margarine as dairy butter, but that was just pure malice, for the quality was so good I'll swear they couldn't tell the difference. And when they're both alike, what does it matter what you call them?"
"Has he been dead long?"
"Eleven years it is to-day since he handed in his final balance-sheet; I go out every year to lay a wreath on his grave, out of sheer gratitude and affection for his memory."
"You don't often meet with friendship like that."
"You're right there. Ah, one needs to have friends; when you haven't, it's only too easy to get low-spirited—especially now, since I've had this bilious trouble."
"Oh, that must be horrid."
"Horrid, yes, it's the very devil. Only fancy, a man like me, that used to eat and drink whatever I pleased—as far as I could get it, that is—and now that I can get whatever I've a fancy to, I have to live on brown bread and weak tea. You'd think Providence might have managed things better than that, now, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, but I'm sure, if you're careful, you'll soon be all right again. And as long as you're properly looked after——"
"Ah, that's just the trouble, I must say. I've been used to something very different. I dare say you know I've been married twice——"
"Twice? Oh yes, I fancy I did hear about it."