The rain spattered unceasingly against the panes.
“What are you hanging about here for?” asked Hedvig. Sivert was standing huddled up by the sink.
“He’ll find out in a minute,” whispered the boy. “He’s waving his arms and legs about, and talking all about money.”
“Puh—let him. We must eat, so there’s an end of it. He’ll have forgotten by to-morrow how much there was.”
“But he’ll count it to-night. He’s going to the meeting.”
“To-night—h’m. That’s a nasty one,” said Hedvig thoughtfully.
Sivert showed a strange reluctance to hand over the stockings.
“They’ve been confirmed,” he explained. “I wore them last Sunday. You can’t have them back now after they’ve been to my confirmation. It’s a great honour.”
“You take them off, and that sharp! You can see mine are wet through.”
“Mine are ... they’re wet, too.”