close together on the bench, and it could be seen that there was
great friendship between them.

All these folk sat at meat in the deepest silence. Torarin looked
from one to another, but none was disposed to talk during the
meal. All the old servants thought to themselves: "It is a goodly
thing to be given food and to be spared the sufferings of want and
hunger, which we have known so often in our lives. While we are
eating we ought to have no thought but of giving thanks to God for
His goodness."

Since Torarin found no one to talk to, his glance wandered up and
down the room. He turned his eyes from the great stove, built up
in many stages beside the entrance door, to the lofty four-post
bed which stood in the farthest corner of the room. He looked from
the fixed benches that ran round the room to the hole in the roof,
through which the smoke escaped and wintry air poured in.

As Torarin the fish hawker, who lived in the smallest and poorest
cabin on the outer isles, looked upon all these things, he
thought: "Were I a great man like Herr Arne I would not be content
to live in an ancient homestead with only one room. I should build
myself a house with high gables and many chambers, like those of
the burgomasters and aldermen of Marstrand."

But more often than not Torarin's eyes rested upon a great oaken
chest which stood at the foot of the four-post bed. And he looked
at it so long because he knew that in it Herr Arne kept all his
silver moneys, and he had heard they were so many that they filled
the chest to the very lid.