[Drowning the others.] Hurrah for Lundestad! Long live old Lundestad! Hurrah!
[The Crowd gradually disperses. Monsen, his son Bastian, Stensgård, and Aslaksen make their way forward through the throng.
Monsen.
'Pon my soul, it’s time he was laid on the shelf!
Aslaksen.
It was the local situation[[10]] he was talking about! Ho-ho!
Monsen.
He has made the same speech year after year as long as I can remember. Come over here.
Stensgård.
No, no, not that way, Mr. Monsen. We are quite deserting your daughter.