Dry Fish and Wet Part 35

Sukkestad was not inclined to be friendly at first, but Oiland took no heed; on the contrary, he took his reluctant colleague by the arm and dragged him off, w.i.l.l.y nilly, to the dining-saloon. There was an excellent spread, hot and cold meats, and Peter Oiland's heart warmed at the sight.

Klingenstein was already seated and hard at work on the viands, with serviette tucked under his chin; he rose, however, and bowed in fine style as Oiland made the introduction: "Mr. Krickke--beg pardon, Sukkestad--Mr. Vingentein--er, I should say, Klingenstein." The two new acquaintances looked at one another rather blankly for a moment, then both stared at Oiland, who, however, appeared entirely unconcerned, and fell to with excellent appet.i.te upon a generous helping of steak and onions.

Oiland ordered a bottle of beer and a schnapps, whereat Sukkestad shook his head mournfully, and inquired whether he really thought that was good for his health. Oiland, however, declared it was good for sea-sickness, and he never felt easy on board s.h.i.+p without it.

Sukkestad grew thoughtful. What would happen when they got to Stavanger? He wished he could get out of it somehow, and go back home again.

At last the voyage was over, the two delegates went ash.o.r.e and put up at the Hotel Norge.

The first thing Sukkestad noticed, on coming down into the hall, was the name "Plukkestad" written on the board against the number of his room. This was too much; he rubbed out the offending letters with his own hand, and wrote instead, with emphatic distinction, "C. A.

Sukkestad." He strongly suspected Oiland of being the culprit; he had gone downstairs a few minutes before, but having no proof he preferred to say nothing about it.

Sukkestad was now thoroughly ill at ease; his one constant thought was to find himself safely home again without any scandal. He saw little of Oiland the first day; the schoolmaster had hired a carriage and set off round the town to see the sights. In the evening, Oiland asked how the meeting had gone off that day, and if anyone had noticed his absence. Sukkestad answered emphatically, "No," inwardly hoping that Peter would not appear at the meetings still to come.

"Well, I think I've seen about all there is to see in this old place--Harbour, Cathedral, Town Hall, Mirror House, and statues of famous men--done it pretty thoroughly, I should say."

At the meeting on the following day Peter turned up, and astonished the a.s.sembly by delivering a long harangue on "The Civilising Influence of Missionary Work." Sukkestad nearly fainted.

Peter's speech produced a great effect, the listeners growing more and more interested as he went on. "Who is he--what's his name?

You've got a regular speaker there, Sukkestad." Sukkestad was utterly at a loss, but vowed never again to expose himself to such surprises, either of one sort or the other.

At last the conference was ended, and the two delegates from Strandvik set out for home.

It was with great relief that Sukkestad found himself on board the steamer; Peter might do what he pleased now, for all he cared. As it turned out, however, Peter was amiability itself towards his travelling companion, though the latter did not seem to appreciate his attention, but endeavoured to keep to himself--a matter of some difficulty on board a small steamboat. An hour before they got in to Strandvik, Oiland came up to him and begged the favour of a "serious word" with him. Sukkestad wondered what on earth was coming, as the other took him by the arm and dragged him off to the forepart of the s.h.i.+p.

"I have had the pleasure of being a frequent guest in your house,"

Peter began, b.u.t.tonholing Sukkestad as if to make sure he did not escape.

"I shouldn't have thought it could be any pleasure to you," put in Sukkestad dryly.

"It has indeed, my dear fellow; and I have the more reason to say so, since your daughter Andrea----"

"What?"

"Forgive my saying so, Mr. Sukkestad, but your daughter has made a deep impression on me."

"Really, Mr. Oiland, this...." Sukkestad trembled at what was to come.

"A deep impression on me. And I think I may venture to say that she herself----"

"Pardon me, Mr. Oiland. My daughter has no feelings in any matter before consulting her father's wishes."

"Oh, but she has, my dear father-in-law, I a.s.sure you."

"Father-in-law Mr. Oiland, this is most unseemly jesting." Sukkestad tried to break away, but Peter held him fast.

"But, my dear sir, what objection can you have to the match? We've always got on splendidly together, and I'm sure this present voyage, and our little adventures on the way, will always be among our most cherished memories--won't they, now?"

"Oh, this is too much! I would recommend you, Mr. Oiland----"

"Most kind of you. I was sure you would. And I'm quite an eligible suitor, really, you know. Got my degree--rather low on the list, I confess, but, anyhow.... I ought to tell you, though, that I don't propose to enter the Church."

"Something to be thankful for at least," said Sukkestad.

"So glad you agree with me. Delighted, really. Well, my dear fellow, I can understand you're a little overwhelmed just at the moment, but we can settle the details when we're at home and at leisure. We're agreed on the essential point, so that's all right."

Oiland let go his hold, and Sukkestad hurried off to his cabin and began getting his things together in feverish haste. What, give his daughter, his only child, to a fellow like that? Never!

They got in without further event, and parted on the quay, Oiland shaking hands fervently with a hearty "Thanks for your pleasant company," while Sukkestad murmured absently: "Not at all, not at all."

Sukkestad had hardly got inside the house when Andrea came rus.h.i.+ng up to him. "Oh, wasn't it a lovely speech of Oiland's? The parson's just been in and told us; simply splendid, he says it was."

"Well, my child, that's a matter of opinion."

"Oh, father, you're always so severe," said Andrea, turning away with tears in her eyes.

A quarter of an hour later Sukkestad and his wife were unpacking in the bedroom, and a serious conference took place between the two. He recounted Oiland's behaviour on the voyage. "And I do hope things haven't gone so far between them as he says," observed Sukkestad sternly, with a meaning glance at his wife. The latter turned away, wiping her eyes on a corner of her ap.r.o.n, and sniffing the while.

"Marie, you don't mean to say you've been a party to it yourself?"

"I--yes--no, that is---- Oh, don't be angry with me. I did think he was such a nice man, really I did."

"Well, we must see what can be done," said Sukkestad.

That evening it was decided that Andrea should be sent as a Warder to the Moravian Mission at Kristiansfeldt.

Andrea wept bitterly, but to no purpose; she had to go, whether she liked it or not.

Peter Oiland came several times to the house, but got no farther than the doorstep; the maid invariably greeted him with the words: "Mr.

Sukkestad's compliments, sir, but he's not at home."

On the occasion of his last attempt before Andrea's departure, he had just got out of the gate when he heard the drawing-room window open, and Andrea's well-known voice singing:

"Thou are my one and only thought, My one and only love...."

He stopped and looked up, but saw only the stern countenance of Papa Sukkestad hastily closing the window, and the music ceased abruptly.

It was quite enough for Peter, however, and he walked home gaily, confident now that all would go well.

Andrea went off without having spoken to Oiland, but the post was busy between Strandvik and Kristiansfeldt, for letters pa.s.sed daily either way--while Mrs. Sukkestad went about complaining that Andrea never wrote home.

XVI

EMILIE RANTZAU