and the warehouse empty. My little brother had whooping cough, so I
could not live at home, but had to be at my grandfather's. One day Jens
surprised me and pretty angry he was. "A nice little boy you are! If you
pull the rope at a wrong time you will cut the expensive rope through,
and it cost 90 Rigsdaler! What do you think your grandfather will
say?" [Footnote: A Rigsdaler was worth about two shillings and
threepence, English money. It is a coin that has been out of use about
40 years.]

It was, of course, very alarming to think that I might destroy such a
valuable thing. Not that I had any definite ideas of money and numbers.
I was well up in the multiplication table and was constantly wrestling
with large numbers, but they did not correspond to any actual conception
in my mind. When I reckoned up what one number of several digits came to
multiplied by another of much about the same value, I had not the least
idea whether Father or Grandfather had so many Rigsdaler, or less, or
more. There was only one of the uncles who took an interest in my gift
for multiplication, and that was my stout, rich uncle with the crooked
mouth, of whom it was said that he owned a million, and who was always
thinking of figures. He was hardly at the door of Mother's drawing-room
before he called out: "If you are a sharp boy and can tell me what
27,374 times 580,208 are, you shall have four skilling;" and quickly
slate and pencil appeared and the sum was finished in a moment and the
four skilling pocketed. [Footnote: Four skilling would be a sum equal to
1-1/2d. English money.]

I was at home then in the world of figures, but not in that of values.
All the same, it would be a terrible thing to destroy such a value as 90
Rigsdaler seemed to be. But might it not be that Jens only said so? He
surely could not see from the rope whether it had been pulled or not.