“Yes, that they would!” Lasse tried to laugh. “And how are things going with you, lad?”
“The negotiations are proceeding; yesterday we held the first meeting.”
Lasse laughed until his throat rattled. “So the fine folks couldn’t stomach the smell any longer! Yes, yes, I heard the news of that when I was lying ill down there in the darkness. At night, when the others came creeping in, they told me about it; we laughed properly over that idea of yours. But oughtn’t you to be at your meeting?”
“No, I have excused myself—I don’t want to sit there squabbling about the ending of a sentence. Now I’m going to be with you, and then we’ll both make ourselves comfortable.”
“I am afraid we shan’t have much more joy of one another, lad!”
“But you are quite jolly again now. To-morrow you will see—”
“Ah, no! Death doesn’t play false. I couldn’t stand that cellar.”
“Why did you do it, father? You knew your place at home was waiting for you.”
“Yes, you must forgive my obstinacy, Pelle. But I was too old to be able to help in the fight, and then I thought at least you won’t lay a burden on them so long as this lasts! So in that way I have borne my share. And do you really believe that something will come of it?”
“Yes, we are winning—and then the new times will begin for the poor man!”