He made himself quite at home, and, what was more remarkable, he succeeded in making Mr. Hersebom eat his supper.

Vanda now entered carrying a large wooden dish, upon which was a saucer, which she offered so graciously to the doctor that he could not refuse it.  It was the famous “snorgas” of Norway, slices of smoked reindeer, and shreds of herring, and red pepper, minced up and laid between slices of black bread, spiced cheese, and other condiments; which they eat at any hour to produce an appetite.

It succeeded so well in the doctor’s case, that although he only took it out of politeness, he was soon able to do honor to some preserved mulberries which were Dame Katrina’s special pride, and so thirsty that he drank seven or eight cups of tea.

Mr. Hersebom brought out a bottle of “schiedam,” which he had bought of a Hollander.

Then supper being ended, the doctor accepted an enormous pipe which his host offered him, and smoked away to their general satisfaction.

By this time all feeling of constraint had passed away, and it seemed as if the doctor had always been a member of the family.  They joked and laughed, and were the best of friends in the world, until the old clock of varnished wood struck ten.

“My good friends, it is growing late,” said the doctor.

“If you will send the children to bed, we will talk about more serious matters.”

Upon a sign from Dame Katrina, Otto, Erik, and Vanda bade them good-night and left the room.

“You wonder why I have come,” said the doctor, after a moments’ silence, fixing his penetrating glance upon the fisherman.

“My guests are always welcome,” answered the fisherman, sententiously.

“Yes!  I know that Noroe is famous for hospitality.  But you must certainly have asked yourself what motive could have induced me to leave the society of my old friend Malarius and come to you.  I am sure that Dame Hersebom has some suspicion of my motive.”

“We shall know when you tell us,” replied the good woman, diplomatically.

“Well,” said the doctor, with a sigh, “since you will not help me, I must face it alone.  Your son, Erik, Master Hersebom, is a most remarkable child.”

“I do not complain of him,” answered the fisherman.

“He is singularly intelligent, and well informed for his age,” continued the doctor.  “I questioned him to-day, in school, and I was very much surprised by the extraordinary ability which his answers displayed.  I was also astonished, when I learned his name, to see that he bore no resemblance to you, nor indeed to any of the natives of this country.”

The fisherman and his wife remained silent and motionless.

“To be brief,” continued the doctor, with visible impatience, “this child not only interests me—­he puzzles me.  I have talked with Malarius, who told me that he was not your son, but that he had been cast on your shore by a shipwreck, and that you took him in and adopted him, bringing him up as your own, and bestowing your name upon him.  This is true, is it not?”