"Do you chew?" asks Pelle, and hastens to offer him the
leaf-tobacco.

"Yes, we all do; a fellow has to when he works all night."

Pelle cannot understand how people can keep going day and night.

"All the bakers in Copenhagen do--so that the people can get fresh
bread in the morning--and our master wants to introduce it here. But
it isn't every one can do it; the whole staff had to be reorganized.
It's worst about midnight, when everything is turning round. Then it
comes over you so that you keep on looking at the time, and the very
moment the clock strikes twelve we all hold our breath, and then no
one can come in or go out any more. The master himself can't stand
the night shift; the 'baccy turns sour in his mouth and he has to
lay it on the table. When he wakes up again he thinks it's a raisin
and sticks it in the dough. What's the name of your girl?"

For a moment Pelle's thoughts caress the three daughters of old
Skipper Elleby--but no, none of them shall be immolated. No, he
has no girl.

"Well, you get one, then you needn't let them sit on you. I'm
flirting a bit just now with the master's daughter--fine girl, she
is, quite developed already--you know! But we have to look out when
the old man's about!"

"Then are you going to marry her when you are a journeyman?" asks
Pelle, with interest.