"Indeed! I thought I was. In fact, everyone says so."
"No, you have got something of a clergyman's manner about you."
"A clergyman? Ha, ha! you mean that I have got stouter? I assure you I do everything a fellow can to prevent it; I work in the garden, I take long walks; but all to no purpose!... You see, my wife takes too good care of me. And everyone here is much too good to me."
"You should do as I do."
"And what do you do?"
"I walk on my hands."
"Ha, ha, ha, on my hands? I, in my position?"
"In your position? If you walked up the church on your hands, that would be a nice sermon!"
"Ha, ha, ha! Can you really walk on your hands?"
"Yes, I say, can?" At the same moment he proceeded to walk on his hands; his short, loose tussore silk coat fell down over his head, the minister gazed at it and at the back of his waistcoat, and at the piece of shirt which showed between it and the band of his trousers, at part of the braces, and lastly at the trousers down to the stockings, and leather shoes with thick, gutta-percha soles. Kallem ran round the room in no time. Ole hardly knew how to take it. Kallem stood panting on his feet again, took off and wiped his spectacles, and began to examine the bookshelves closely in his short-sighted way.