"Certainly, Lars Peter Hansen," said the inn-keeper, preceding him into the shop. He weighed out all Lars Peter ordered, reminded him of one thing after another, laying the articles in a heap on the counter. "Have you raisins for the Christmas cakes?" he asked. "Ditte bakes herself." He knew every one's doings and was thoughtful in helping them.
When Lars Peter was about to carry the things out to the cart, he said smilingly, "That will be—let me see, how much do you owe for last time?"
"I'd like to let it wait a bit—till I get settled up after the auction!"
"Well, I'm afraid it can't. I don't know anything about you yet."
"Oh, so you're paying me out." Lars Peter began to fume.
"Paying you out? Not at all. But I like to know what sort of a man I'm dealing with before I can trust him."
"Oh, indeed! It's easy enough to see what sort of a fellow you are!" shouted Lars Peter and rushed out.
The inn-keeper followed him out to the cart. "You'll have a different opinion of me some day," said he gently, "then we can talk it over again. Never mind. But another thing—where'll you get food for the horse?"
"I'll manage somehow," answered Lars Peter shortly.
"And stabling? It's setting in cold now."