“Ah, it’s the tureen there!” said his brother, the carpenter, without moving a muscle. “My wife would be glad to borrow it a moment, she says.”
His wife, taken aback, started up and gave him a thwack on the back. “Monster!” she said, half ashamed, and laughing. “The men must always make a fool of somebody!”
Then they all set to, and for a while eating stopped their mouths. From time to time some droll remark was made. “Some sit and do themselves proud, while others do the drudging,” said the Vanishing Man, Otto’s comrade. Which was to say that he had finished his pork. “Give him one in the mouth, mother!” said Stolpe.
When their hunger was satisfied the witticisms began to fly. Morten’s present was a great wedding-cake. It was a real work of art; he had made it in the form of a pyramid. On the summit stood a youthful couple, made of sugar, who held one another embraced, while behind them was a highly glazed representation of the rising sun. Up the steps of the pyramid various other figures were scrambling to the top, holding their arms outstretched toward the summit. Wine was poured out when they came to the cake, and Morten made a little speech in Pelle’s honor, in which he spoke of loyalty toward the new comrade whom he had chosen. Apparently the speech concerned Ellen only, but Pelle understood that his words were meant to be much more comprehensive; they had a double meaning all the time.
“Thank you, Morten,” he said, much moved, and he touched glasses with him.
Then Stolpe delivered a speech admonishing the newly-married pair. This was full of precious conceits and was received with jubilation.
“Now you see how father can speak,” said Madam Stolpe. “When nothing depends on it then he can speak!”
“What’s that you say, mother?” cried Stolpe, astonished. He was not accustomed to criticism from that source. “Just listen to that now— one’s own wife is beginning to pull away the scaffolding-poles from under one!”
“Well, that’s what I say!” she rejoined, looking at him boldly. Her face was quite heated with wine. “Does any one stand in the front of things like father does? He was the first, and he has been always the most zealous; he has done a good stroke of work, more than most men. And to- day he might well have been one of the leaders and have called the tune, if it weren’t for that damned hiccoughing. He’s a clever man, and his comrades respect him too, but what does all that signify if a man hiccoughs? Every time he stands on the speaker’s platform he has the hiccoughs.”
“And yet it isn’t caused by brandy?” said the thick-set little Vanishing Man, Albert Olsen.