[CHAPTER III]
AS Knut plodded homewards, he felt like a man whose hat has been blown off his head, and who cannot find out which way it has gone. He could not conceive how this rumour about Wangen’s forgery had arisen, but at the same time he felt that in reality he himself was responsible for it. It was of course the women-folk who had misunderstood him yesterday evening when he was tired and wanted to be quiet. And then it had gone by way of the kitchen to the farm-hands. And by the evening the whole parish would be full of the story, for it would be quite a tit-bit to carry about. And Wangen? Of course he would take the opportunity to bring an action against Norby. He almost wished he had had a rifle in his hand, so that he could have shot the man on ski, who was flying along with that confounded story. If he had not existed, Norby would have had the hard task of going to his men and saying: “This is a misunderstanding about Wangen. I am actually surety for him; he has not forged my signature.” But now there would be the whole parish to go to, and the thought of it made him furious.
He first turned his steps towards the kitchen entrance, to give the maid-servants a scolding, but stopped half-way across the yard. “If there’s going to be any unpleasantness over this,” he thought, “I shall have to bear the brunt of it after all, and I suppose I’m master in my house.”
Nothing came of his projected forest excursion that day. He went instead to the stables, and threatened to discharge the stableman because a young horse was badly curried. Then he suddenly made his appearance in the barn, just when the men were taking a rest, and gave them a talking to. Finally he went into his office, and began to write dunning letters to a number of his debtors.
“I shall be fined, of course, and shall perhaps have to make a retractation in the newspaper,” was his thought all the time he was writing. “This is all one gets for helping such good-for-nothings—domestic scenes, loss of money, and in addition to that you make a fool of yourself, and lose your good name!”
The door opened, and to his great astonishment Marit entered. If she was going to break the silence already, something unusual must be at the bottom of it. She had better not come too and worry him about this!
She stood erect, with both hands hanging down and her chin thrust forward, and began in a vibrating voice:
“I can see you intend to keep this from me, but I just want to ask you whether you are going to report him to the bailiff.”