operators, a few people from Bergen, one or two Danes. There were many of
us at table now, and the talk was lively. When Schoolmaster Staur was
asked if he wanted more soup, he replied: "No, thank you; I require no
more!" and then rolled his eyes at us to show that this was the correct
thing to say. Between meals we made up small parties, going this way and
that on the sides of the fjeld and in the woods. But of transient guests
there were few or none at all, and it was really on these that the house
would earn well--on rooms for a night, on single meals, on cups of coffee.
Josephine seemed to be worrying lately, and her young fingers grew more
greedy as they counted silver coins.

Lean brook trout, goat's-meat stew, and tinned foods. Some of the guests
were dissatisfied people who spoke of leaving; others praised both the
food and the wild mountain scenery. Schoolmistress Torsen wanted to leave.
She was tall and handsome and wore a red hat on her dark hair; but there
were no suitable young men here, and in the long run it was a bore to
waste her holidays so completely. Tradesman Batt, who had been in both
Africa and America, was the only possibility, for even the Bergensians
amounted to nothing.

"Where's Miss Torsen?" Batt would ask us.

"Here I am; I'm coming," the lady answered.

They did not care for walks up the fjeld, but preferred to go to the woods
together, where they talked for hours. But Tradesman Batt did not amount
to much either; he was short and freckled, and talked of nothing but money
and trade. Besides, he had only a small shop in the town, and dealt in
tobacco and fruit. No, he did not amount to much.