ach blow
fell.

But when he had finished, Sivert Jespersen, with a cringing smile,
said: "I think now we had better sing a hymn."

At the third verse the cook entered with the dessert. The host made
the most frightful grimaces, and shook his head; for he was leading
the singing, and had to mind his trebles and basses.

The cook understood the case well enough. She had submitted to giving
up the salmon, but the devil himself should not cheat her out of her
dessert. Her character would be utterly ruined in all the best
families were it to transpire that, at a dinner of twenty-two
persons, she had served only soup and a roast--no fish; no dessert!

Never would she stand such a thing! Red in the face, with smothered
indignation, she brought in an enormous dish of rich pastry, which
she placed right in front of Sivert Jespersen.

It caused an exceedingly painful impression, and the host almost lost
his voice as he began the fourth verse. Nobody ventured to touch the
dessert, and, after the hymn, the old dyer read a grace after meat.

When the coffee came, there was an oppressive silence; for some were
seriously affected and distressed, others glanced uneasily at the
elders. The women began to collect their cloaks, in order to proceed
to the meeting-house, where there was to be a Bible-reading, Fennefos
and some of the men accompanying them. But in the little office
behind Sivert Jespersen's store, five or six of the elders were
assembled. They lit their long clay pipes, and for some time sat
smoking in silence. No one liked to begin the conversation.

"Does any one know the price of salt up at Bergen?" inquired Endre
Egeland, who was always inclined to pass over anything unpleasant.

Apparently, however, no one knew anything about the price of salt. It
was clear that something else had to be discussed.

"Yes; we all deserve it," sighed Sivert Jespersen. "I suppose that we
have all been benefited."

"Yes, indeed," said another, "there is, in truth, much to correct and
much to censure, both in you and me."

"You see the mote in your brother's eye, but not the beam in your
own," said Nicolai Egeland, appropriately.

"It is not always that the advice and conversation of women folk
softens a man," said the old dyer, quietly.

There was a pause, until all, even Nicolai Egeland, had taken in what
was said. At last one of them remarked, "We shall require much help
up on our farm this year, for the Lord has blessed bo