The schoolmaster, however, did not keep still, but went on talking
of all that must be done to protect the flock from the wolves.

"I haven't seen any wolves," said the pastor.

"But I know they are on their way."

"And you, Storm, are opening the door to them," declared the
minister, rising. The schoolmaster's talk had irritated him. The
blood mounted to his face, and he regained a little of his old
dignity.

"My dear Storm, let us drop the subject," he said. Then turning to
the housewife, he passed some pleasant remark about the last pretty
bride she had dressed. For Mother Stina dressed all the brides in
the parish.

Peasant woman though she was, she understood how it must hurt him
to be so cruelly reminded of his own impotence. She wept from
compassion, and could not answer him for the tears; so the pastor
had to do most of the talking.

Meanwhile, he kept thinking: "Oh, if I only had some of the power
and the capacity of my younger days, I would convince this peasant
at once of the wrong he is doing." With that he turned again to the
schoolmaster:

"Where did you get the money, Storm?" he asked.