morning by pulling him out of bed by the hair. The scoundrel knows
to-day is market-day, and yet he lies there asleep at this hour of
the morning. The pastor said to me the other day, "Nille, you are
much too hard on your husband; he is and he ought to be the master
of the house." But I answered him, "No, my good pastor! If I should
let my husband have his way in the household for a year, the gentry
wouldn't get their rent nor the pastor his offering, for in that
length of time he would turn all there was in the place into drink.
Ought I let a man rule the household who is perfectly ready to sell
his belongings and wife and children and even himself for brandy?"
The pastor had nothing to say to that, but stood there stroking his
chin. The bailiff agrees with me, and says, "My dear woman, pay no
attention to the pastor. It's in the wedding-service, to be sure,
that you must honor and obey your husband, but it's in your lease,
which is more recent than the service, that you shall keep up your
farm and meet your rent--a thing you can never do unless you haul
your husband about by the hair every day and beat him to his work."

I pulled him out of bed just now and went out to the barn to see how
things were getting along, when I came in again, he was sitting on a
chair, asleep, with his breeches--saving your presence--pulled on
one leg; so the switch had to come down from the hook, and my good
Jeppe got a basting till he was wide awake again. The only thing he
is afraid of is "Master Eric," as I call the switch. Hey, Jeppe, you
cur, haven't you got into your clothes yet? Would you like to talk
to Master Eric some more? Hey, Jeppe! Come in here!



SCENE 2