“I’m glad to see you, too, if you can tell us how we happen to be here.”
“Too much ‘finkel,’” laughed the publican, as he proceeded to explain the situation, and to enlarge upon the fatherly interest which had induced him to take them in for the night.
“All right, my hearty. I see you can keep a hotel,” added Scott. “How much have we to pay?”
“Two rigsdalers; but you want some breakfast.”
“I do, for one,” replied Scott.
“So do I,” said Laybold. “We only had a little lunch last night, and that ‘finkel’ spoiled my appetite—or the fish spawn. I don’t know which.”
About five o’clock they sat down to breakfast, which consisted of a great variety of little things, such as the small fishes, herrings, smoked salmon, sausages. The coffee was magnificent, as it generally is in Sweden, even on board of steamers, where, in our own country, it is least expected to be good.
“What is this?” said Scott, taking up half a great brown biscuit.
“That’s Swedish bread. We bake it once in six months,” replied the landlord.
“Not bad,” added Scott, as he tasted the article.