Hamar. That new lawyer fellow? He's a smart chap—I can't remember his name?
Tjaelde. No, he always wants to be speechifying wherever he goes.—Ah, Mr. Pram, the custom-house officer!
Hamar. That man? He always gets drunk!
Tjaelde. Yes, but he doesn't get noisy with it. He does no harm—quite the contrary! Yes, put down Pram.
Hamar. Mr. Pram.
Tjaelde. It is a very difficult task, in such a small town, when you want to get a good set of people together. Ah!—Falbe! I forgot him. He is very neat, and no opinions.
Hamar. Neat in his dress, do you mean?
Tjaelde. Yes, in his dress too-but I meant it more generally. Now, for the twelfth—Morten Schultz?
Hamar. Morten Schultz! (Gets up.) No, really, I must take the liberty of protesting against him! Do you really know what he did the last time he was here, when you had a lot of guests? In the middle of dinner he took out his false teeth and began showing them to his neighbours. He wanted to have them passed round the table! If that is your idea of a good set of people—well!
Tjaelde. Yes, he is rather a rough diamond. But he is the richest man about here.