NEIGHBOUR. Fate does not distribute its gifts evenly: one shall be taken and the other left.
OLD LADY. I suppose there are good reasons for it?
NEIGHBOUR. I see! The reward of the righteous shall not fail, and the wicked shall not have to wait for their punishment.
JUDGE. Oh, no malice meant! But you have to admit, anyhow, that it's queer: two parcels of land lie side by side, and one yields good harvests, the other poor ones——
NEIGHBOUR. One yields starlings and the other not: that's what I find queerer still. But, then, everybody wasn't born with a caul, like you, Judge.
JUDGE. What you say is true, and fortune has favoured me. I am thankful for it, and there are moments when I feel proud of it as if I had deserved it.—But listen, neighbour—you came as if you had been sent for.—That leasehold of mine is vacant, and I wanted to ask you if you care to take it.
[1] In Sweden such spots are called "sun-cats."
The OLD LADY has in the meantime left her seat and gone to the mausoleum, where she is busying herself with the flowers.
NEIGHBOUR. Oh, the leasehold is vacant. Hm! Since when?
JUDGE. Since this morning.