ill the moment there was any unpleasantness; but he had his own way
of making himself respected. As he went on reading some one would
discover that he was getting a wigging, and would give a jump,
believing that all his failings were in the paper.

When the time drew near for leaving off work, a brisker note sounded
in the workshop. The long working-day was coming to an end, and the
day's weariness and satiety were forgotten, and the mind looked
forward--filling with thoughts of the sand-hills or the woods,
wandering down a road that was bright with pleasure. Now and again
a neighbor would step in, and while away the time with his gossip;
something or other had happened, and Master Andres, who was so
clever, must say what he thought about it. Sounds that had been
confused during the day now entered the workshop, so that those
within felt that they were participating in the life of the town;
it was as though the walls had fallen.

About seven o'clock a peculiar sound was heard in the street
without, approaching in very slowly _tempo;_ there was a dull
thump and then two clacking sounds; and then came the thump again,
like the tread of a huge padded foot, and once more the clack-clack.
This was old Bjerregrav, swinging toward the workshop on his
crutches; Bjerregrav, who moved more slowly than anybody, and got
forward more quickly. If Master Andres happened to be in one of his
bad humors, he would limp away, in order not to remain in the same
room with a cripple; at other times he was glad to see Bjerregrav.

"Well, you are a rare bird, aren't you?" he would cry, when
Bjerregrav reached the landing and swung himself sideways through
the door; and the old man would laugh--he had paid this visit daily