“This is Graham bread, I suppose,” said Laybold, as he took a slice of the coarse brown bread. “Bah! it’s sour.”
It always is; and both the students rejected it, though they ate a hearty meal of white bread, herring, salmon, and sausage.
“Now, how much?” asked Scott, when they were ready to go.
“One rigsdaler and fifty öre each—three rigsdalers in all.”
“Cheap enough,” said Scott. “Two lodgings and two breakfasts for eighty-one cents.”
The students walked through the lane in which they had made their devious way the night before, to the main street on the canal. At the landing-place there were no boats belonging to the squadron, and everything looked exceedingly quiet on board of the ship. Seating themselves on the pier, with their legs hanging over the water, they decided to wait till a boat came to the shore.
“We shall catch it for this,” said Laybold.
“No more liberty for a month at least,” said Scott, shrugging his shoulders after his fashion.
“I don’t think it’s fair. We didn’t mean to get drunk, and didn’t know what ‘finkel’ was,” added Laybold. “I don’t half like to go on board again.”
“Nor I; but I suppose we must face the music,” answered Scott, dubiously. “I’m glad we didn’t go on board while we were boozy. The fellows would have laughed at us for a year, if we had.”