"Yes, I know you appropriate the credit for all that is done here, and if one should judge by the amount of speaking at these meetings, you certainly have accomplished the most."
"Is that the way of it?" shouted Knud, looking sharply at Lars. "It is you who deserve the entire honor?"
"Since we must finally talk about ourselves," said Lars, "I am free to admit that every question has been carefully considered by both of us before it was introduced here."
Here little Knud Aakre regained his ready speech:—
"Take the honor, in God's name; I am quite able to live without it; there are other things that are harder to lose!"
Involuntarily Lars evaded his gaze, but said, as he set the straw in very rapid motion,—
"If I were to express my opinion, I should say that there is not very much to take credit for. No doubt the priest and the school-masters are content with what has been done; but certainly the common people say that up to the present time the taxes of this parish have grown heavier and heavier."
Here arose a murmur in the crowd, and the people grew very restless. Lars continued,—
"Finally, to-day we have a matter brought before us that might make the parish some little amends for all it has paid out; this is perhaps the reason why it encounters such opposition. This is a question which concerns the parish; it is for the welfare of all; it is our duty to protect it from becoming a mere family matter."
People exchanged glances, and spoke in half-audible tones; one of them remarked, as he rose to go for his dinner-pail, that these were the truest words he had heard in these meetings for many years. Now all rose from their seats, the conversation became general, and Knud Aakre, who alone remained sitting, felt that all was lost, fearfully lost, and made no further effort to save it. The truth was, he possessed something of the temperament attributed to Frenchmen: he was very good at a first, second, or even third attack, but poor at self-defense, for his sensibilities overwhelmed his thoughts.