“Were the doctor and Mr. Malarius friends in childhood?” he asked, in order to give a turn to the conversation.

“Yes,” answered the fisherman, as he seated himself at the table.  “They were both born in Noroe, and I can remember when they played around the school-house, although they are both ten years older than I am.  Mr. Malarius was the son of the physician, and Doctor Schwaryencrona only the son of a simple fisherman.  But he has risen in the world, and they say that he is now worth millions, and that his residence in Stockholm is a perfect palace.  Oh, learning is a fine thing.”

After uttering this aphorism the brave man took a spoon to help the smoking fish and potatoes, when a knock at the door made him pause.

“May I come in, Master Hersebom?” said a deep-toned voice.  And without waiting for permission the person who had spoken entered, bringing with him a great blast of icy air.

“Doctor Schwaryencrona!” cried the three children, while the father and mother rose quickly.

“My dear Hersebom,” said the doctor, taking the fisherman’s hand, “we have not seen each other for many years, but I have not forgotten your excellent father, and thought I might call and see a friend of my childhood!”

The worthy man felt a little ashamed of the accusations which he had so recently made against his visitor, and he did not know what to say.  He contented himself, therefore, with returning the doctor’s shake of the hand cordially, and smiling a welcome, whilst his good wife was more demonstrative.

“Quick, Otto, Erik, help the doctor to take off his overcoat, and you, Vanda, prepare another place at the table,” she said, for, like all Norwegian housekeepers, she was very hospitable.

“Will you do us the honor, doctor, of eating a morsel with us?”

“Indeed I would not refuse, you may be sure, if I had the least appetite; for I see you have a very tempting dish before you.  But it is not an hour since I took supper with Mr. Malarius, and I certainly would not have called so early if I had thought you would be at the table.  It would give me great pleasure if you would resume your seats and eat your supper.”

“Oh, doctor!” implored the good wife, “at least you will not refuse some ‘snorgas’ and a cup of tea?”

“I will gladly take a cup of tea, but on condition that, you eat your supper first,” answered the doctor, seating himself in the large arm-chair.

Vanda immediately placed the tea-kettle on the fire, and disappeared in the neighboring room.  The rest of the family understanding with native courtesy that it would annoy their guest if they did not do as he wished, began to eat their supper.

In two minutes the doctor was quite at his ease.  He stirred the fire, and warmed his legs in the blaze of the dry wood that Katrina had thrown on before going to supper.  He talked about old times, and old friends; those who had disappeared, and those who remained, about the changes that had taken place even in Bergen.