“You speak Norwegian?”
I replied, in the same tongue:
“A little, a very little—very.”
He seemed not only disappointed, but indignant. He explained the matter to the crowd, and they all seemed indignant.
Why everybody should be indignant with me I could not comprehend. There are plenty of people who do not understand Scandinavian. It was absurd to be vexed with me because I did not. I do know a little, and that is more than some people do.
I inquired of the old gentleman about B. He did understand me. I must give him credit for that. But beyond understanding me, he was of no more use than the others; and why they had taken so much trouble to fetch him, I could not imagine.
What would have happened if the difficulty had continued much longer (for I was getting thoroughly wild with the lot of them) I cannot say. Fortunately, at this moment I caught sight of B. himself, who had just entered the room.
I could not have greeted him more heartily if I had wanted to borrow money of him.
“Well, I am glad to see you again!” I cried. “Well, this is pleasant! I thought I had lost you!”
“Why, you are English!” cried out the old gentleman in the white hat, in very good Saxon, on hearing me speak to B.