Chapter Four.
A Ghost and a Custom—A Fish-Market and a Norse Lover.
There was no night in Bergen at this time. At the midnight hour there was light enough to see to read the smallest print, and at an early hour in the morning this sweet twilight brightened into dawn.
This being the case, Fred Temple was not a little surprised to see a ghost make its appearance about six o’clock—for ghosts are famous for their hatred of broad daylight. Nevertheless there it was, in the form of a woman. What else could it be but a ghost? for no woman would dare to enter his bedroom (so he thought) without knocking at the door.
The ghost had in her hand a tray with a cup of coffee on it. Fred watched her motions with intense curiosity, and kept perfectly still, pretending to be asleep. She went straight to the box in which Sam Sorrel slept, and going down on her knees, looked earnestly into his face. As our artist’s mouth happened to be wide-open, it may be said that she looked down his throat. Presently she spoke to him in a soft whisper—“Will de have caffé?” (Will you have coffee?) A loud snore was the reply. Again she spoke, somewhat louder: “Vill de have caffé?”
A snort was the reply.
Once more, in a tone which would not be denied:
“Vill de have caffé?”
“Eh! hallo! what! dear me! yes—ah—thank you—ver so goot,” replied Sam, as he awoke and gazed in wild surprise at the ghost who was none other than the female domestic servant of the house, who had brought the visitors a cup of coffee before breakfast.