But for all that Edward Kallem did not really know the true meaning of "God's ways." Ole down in the fishing village, and walking in the ways of God! From sheer curiosity he forgot that he was a member of the moral police force, and blurted out, just like any other school-boy, "I don't understand what you mean, Ole; walking in the ways of God, did you say?"
Ole noticed the change at once; those wild-looking eyes were friendly again, but still had that strange light which indeed never left them. Edward Kallem was the one of all his school-fellows whom Ole secretly admired the most. The peasant boy suffered much from the town boys' superior brightness and sharpness, and both these qualities were very much to the fore in Edward Kallem. And besides, there was as it were a halo round his head--he was his brown-haired sister's brother.
He had one unbearable fault, he was a fearful tease. He often got a beating for it from the master or his father, or his companions, but a moment after he would begin again. This sort of courage was beyond the peasant boy's comprehension. Therefore a friendly word or smile from Edward had a greater effect than it was really worth; it had about it a sunny glow of gracious condescension. This coaxing, kindly questioning, coming from the bird of prey (though its beak only was visible), together with the bright, shining eyes, made Ole give in. As soon as Edward changed his tactics and asked innocently to be allowed to look at the box he gave it up, and felt so safe and at his ease that he dried his eyes with his big gloves, took off the one glove and blew his nose, then remembering that someone had given him a checked pocket-handkerchief for that purpose, he looked for it in his pockets but could not find it.
Edward had unfastened the lid of the box; before he raised it he looked up, saying, "May I?"
"Yes, you may."
Edward put the lid on one side and took off a handkerchief, under which lay a large book; it was a Bible. He felt rather small, almost awed. Underneath the Bible lay several unbound books; he took up a few of them, turned them over and put them back again; they were religious tracts. He laid down the Bible again carefully, just as he had found it, spread the handkerchief over it, and shut the lid. In reality he was not a bit wiser than before, but he was more curious.
"You surely don't read the Bible to the people down there?" asked he.
Ole Tuft blushed. "Yes, I do, sometimes, and then----"
"Who do you read to?"
"Oh, to the sick, but it is not often I can get so far."