Engstrand.
All the same, I bear myself witness as I’ve brought up the child, and lived kindly with poor Johanna, and ruled over my own house, as the Scripture has it. But it couldn’t never enter my head to go to your Reverence and puff myself up and boast because even the likes of me had done some good in the world. No, sir; when anything of that sort happens to Jacob Engstrand, he holds his tongue about it. It don’t happen so terrible often, I daresay. And when I do come to see your Reverence, I find a mortal deal that’s wicked and weak to talk about. For I said it before, and I says it again—a man’s conscience isn’t always as clean as it might be.
Manders.
Give me your hand, Jacob Engstrand.
Engstrand.
Oh, Lord! your Reverence——?
Manders.
Come, no nonsense [wrings his hand]. There we are!
Engstrand.
And if I might humbly beg your Reverence’s pardon——