“Has Doctor Schwaryencrona ruined any one?” asked Erik with curiosity.

“Well—­if he has not done so, it has not been his fault.  Do you think that I have taken any pleasure in the erection of his factory, which is sending forth its smoke on the borders of our fiord?  Your mother can tell you that formerly we manufactured our own oil, and that we sold it easily in Bergen for a hundred and fifty to two hundred kroners a year.  But that is all ended now—­nobody will buy the brown oil, or, if they do, they pay so little for it, that it is not worth while to take the journey.  We must be satisfied with selling the livers to the factory, and God only knows how this tiresome doctor has managed to get them for such a low price.  I hardly realize forty-five kroners now, and I have to take twice as much trouble as formerly.  Ah, well.  I say it is not just, and the doctor would do better to look after his patients in Stockholm, instead of coming here to take away our trade by which we earn our bread.”

After these bitter words they were all silent.  They heard nothing for some minutes except the clicking of the plates, as Vanda arranged them, whilst her mother emptied the contents of the pot into a large dish.

Erik reflected deeply upon what Mr. Hersebom had said.  Numerous objections presented themselves to his mind, and as he was candor itself—­he could not help speaking.

“It seems to me that you have a right to regret your former profits, father,” he said, “but is it just to accuse Doctor Schwaryencrona of having diminished them?  Is not his oil worth more than the home-made article?”

“Ah! it is clearer, that is all.  It does not taste as strong as ours, they say; and that is the reason why all the fine ladies in the town prefer it, no doubt; but it does not do any more good to the lungs of sick people than our oil.”

“But for some reason or other they buy it in preference; and since it is a very useful medicine it is essential that the public should experience as little disgust as possible in taking it.  Therefore, if a doctor finds out a method of making it more palatable, is it not his duty to make use of his discovery?”

Master Hersebom scratched his ear.

“Doubtless,” he said, reluctantly, “it is his duty as a doctor, but that is no reason why he should prevent poor fishermen from getting their living.”

“I believe the doctor’s factory gives employment to three hundred, whilst there were only twenty in Noroe at the time of which you speak,” objected Erik, timidly.

“You are right, and that is why the business is no longer worth anything,” said Hersebom.

“Come, supper is ready.  Seat yourselves at the table,” said Dame Katrina, who saw that the discussion was in danger of becoming unpleasantly warm.

Erik understood that further opposition on his part would be out of place, and he did not answer the last argument of his father, but took his habitual seat beside Vanda.