“What do you mean?” I asked. “I've bought three bottles of wine that I've to take with me to a certain place.”
“And you're going to carry it all that way?” asked the girl, amid much laughter. “As if there were never a store on the road.”
“Frøkenen forgets that it's Sunday tomorrow, and the stores on the road will be shut,” said I.
The laugh died away, but I could see the company was no more kindly disposed towards me now for speaking straight out. I turned to the wife, and asked coldly how much I owed her for the time I had stayed.
But surely there was no hurry—wouldn't it do tomorrow?
I was in a hurry—thank you. I had been there two days—what did that come to?
She thought over it quite a while; at last she went out, and got her husband to go with her and work it out together.
Seeing they stayed so long away, I went up to the loft, packed my sack all ready, and carried it down into the passage. I proposed to be even more offended, and start off now—that very night. It would be a good way of taking leave, as things were.
When I came into the room again, Petter said:
“You don't mean to say you're starting out tonight?”