“Leave out the key, Anna, if I’m not....”
“Oh, I’ll be waiting up all right.”
“Well, if you like.” Egholm moved to the door; he grasped the handle. A flicker of hope went through them; he had forgotten his tithe and offering. To-morrow it wouldn’t matter so much....
But Egholm stood there still, pulling at his beard, straining himself to think....
“Ah—I mustn’t forget the chiefest of all.”
In the midst of a ghastly silence he took the bowl from its place, shook out the little heap of coppers, and with a satisfied air stacked them up in orderly piles, ready to count. He counted all through, counted over again, and moved the piles in different order, pulled at his beard, and glowered. The mother kept her eyes fixed on her work, but the children were staring, staring at their father’s hands.
“How much was it he lent us on the clock last time? Three kroner, surely?”
“Yes; I think it was three,” said Fru Egholm, trying her hardest to speak naturally.
“What do you mean?—‘you think it was!’” Her husband rose to his feet with a threatening mien.
“Yes, yes, I remember now. It was three kroner.”