“Ay, from new year to be.  What was the good of it, anyway?  And supposing I was out on business, or driving for the Lensmand or the doctor, then to have to look after the telegraph first of all—­no, there’s no sense nor meaning in it that way.  Well enough for them that’s time to spare.  But running over hill and dale after a telegraph wire for next to nothing wages, ’tis no job that for Brede.  And then, besides, I’ve had words with the people from the telegraph office about it—­they’ve been making a fuss again.”

The Lensmand keeps repeating the bids for the farm; they have got up to the few hundred Kroner the place is judged to be worth, and the bidding goes slowly, now, with but five or ten Kroner more each time.

“Why, surely—­’tis Axel there’s bidding,” cries Brede suddenly, and hurries eagerly across.  “What, you going to take over my place too?  Haven’t you enough to look after?”

“I’m bidding for another man,” says Axel evasively.

“Well, well, ’tis no harm to me, ’twasn’t that I meant.”

The Lensmand raises his hammer, a new bid is made, a whole hundred Kroner at once; no one bids higher, the Lensmand repeats the figure again and again, waits for a moment with his hammer raised, and then strikes.

Whose bid?

Axel Stroem—­on behalf of another.

The Lensmand notes it down:  Axel Stroem as agent.

“Who’s that you buying for?” asks Brede.  “Not that it’s any business of mine, of course, but....”

But now some men at the Lensmand’s table are putting their heads together; there is a representative from the Bank, the storekeeper has sent his assistant; there is something the matter; the creditors are not satisfied.  Brede is called up, and Brede, careless and light-hearted, only nods and is agreed—­“but who’d ever have thought it didn’t come up to more?” says he.  And suddenly he raises his voice and declares to all present: 

“Seeing as we’ve an auction holding anyhow, and I’ve troubled the Lensmand all this way, I’m willing to sell what I’ve got here on the place:  the cart, live stock, a pitchfork, a grindstone.  I’ve no use for the things now; we’ll sell the lot!”

Small bidding now.  Brede’s wife, careless and light-hearted as himself, for all the fulness of her in front, has begun selling coffee at a table.  She finds it amusing to play at shop, and smiles; and when Brede himself comes up for some coffee, she tells him jestingly that he must pay for it like the rest.  And Brede actually takes out his lean purse and pays.  “There’s a wife for you,” he says to the others.  “Thrifty, what?”

The cart is not worth much—­it has stood too long uncovered in the open; but Axel bids a full five Kroner more at last, and gets the cart as well.  After that Axel buys no more, but all are astonished to see that cautious man buying so much as he has.

Then came the animals.  They had been kept in their shed today, so as to be there in readiness.  What did Brede want with live stock when he had no farm to keep them on?  He had no cows; he had started farming with two goats, and had now four.  Besides these, there were six sheep.  No horse.