“Death and all the devils! We must see about putting it in repair and returning it; remember that, and take it with you to the smith’s. Well, what in the world shall we do?” The young master stared helplessly from one to another.
“Shoemaker Marker,” suggested little Nikas.
“We don’t borrow from Marker,” and the master wrinkled his forehead. “Marker’s a louse!” Marker had succeeded in stealing one of the oldest customers of the workshop.
“There isn’t salt to eat an egg!”
“Well, what shall I do?” asked Pelle, somewhat impatiently.
The master sat for a while in silence. “Well, take it, then!” he cried, and threw a krone toward Pelle; “I have no peace from you so long as I’ve got a farthing in my pocket, you demon! Buy a packet and pay back Klausen and Blom what we’ve borrowed.”
“But then they’d see we’ve got a whole packet,” said Pelle.
“Besides, they owe us lots of other things that they’ve borrowed of us.” Pelle showed circumspection in his dealings.
“What a rogue!” said the master, and he settled himself to read. “Lord above us, what a gallows-bird!” He looked extremely contented.
And after a time it was once more, “Pelle, run out, etc.”