if he thought him a quite hopeless subject. At last he recovered so far
as to say: "Look here, my lad, don't you think you might be content to
call him--now and for the future--just your benefactor? Don't you think
he deserves it?"

"Oh, yes," whispered Peer, almost in tears.

"You are thinking, of course--you and those who have put all this
nonsense into your head--of the money which he--h'm--"

"Yes--isn't there a savings bank account--?"

"Aha! There we are! Yes, indeed. There is a savings bank account--in my
care." He rose, and hunted out from a drawer a small green-covered book.
Peer could not take his eyes from it. "Here it is. The sum entered here
to your account amounts to eighteen hundred crowns."

Crash! Peer felt as if he had fallen through the floor into the
cellarage. All his dreams vanished into thin air--the million
crowns--priest and bishop--Christiania--and all the rest.

"On the day when you are in a fair way to set up independently as an
artisan, a farmer, or a fisherman--and when you seem to me, to the best
of my judgment, to deserve such help--then and not till then I place
this book at your disposal. Do you understand what I say?"

"Yes."

"I am perfectly sure that I am in full agreement with the wishes of
the donor in deciding that the money must remain untouched in my safe