Then he replied to Vebba:
"I will be glad to see the priest."
"We like him well," said Wiltna. "He is from Ireland, where there are many such as he, and he cometh here to teach against the old gods of the North. Most of the people swear by Wodin and Thor to this day. They change not easily."
Ned did not say anything aloud about their being heathen, but he blurted out in Norwegian:
"It is just so among us; we have ever so many preachers, and most of the people do not go by what they say any too well."
Vebba nodded, as if that were understood to be a matter of course everywhere, and the dinner went on.
"How they do drink beer!" thought Ned. "Nothing else. Every fellow uses his own sheath-knife and his fingers. Salt, but no pepper. Fair butter. Pretty good bread. This is goat mutton, is it? I like it pretty well. I guess there won't be any pie. Fingers were made before forks, as Uncle Jack says."
Nevertheless, the table manners were very good, and the food was abundant, fish, flesh, and fowl. The fish, especially, were all that could be asked for, and the poultry was wild game of several kinds.
Now and then a remark from Vebba or Wiltna came to Ned, politely, but he was left to Lars and the other youngsters most of the time. It was manifestly against the rules of good Norse society to ask too many questions of a guest. Strangers were welcome to come and go, and would simply be treated according to their degree while there. In fact, much of the respect with which Ned was now regarded by his new friends belonged to the fact that he had learned so much from his American fencing-master,—and he, too, had been French.