The tears flowed down over Vang's puffy purple cheeks. Egholm sniffed once or twice in sympathy, and forgot his own troubles for a moment.
Vang licked a last drop from the neck of the bottle, and went on:
"Well, you see, Therese had never expected that--nor had I. But don't let's talk about me. What _was_ I to expect? Drunken fool, that's all. Perhaps it was that made her turn religious. I don't know. I never can think things out. It tires me. Well, she said to me: 'Look here, you get me a place at the Postmaster's or the Stationmaster's, or one of those you're always drinking with.' Well, they simply laughed at me. But the religious lot, they didn't mind. Only the worst of it was, from the time she set her thoughts on heaven, it's been simply hell for me! Now, how d'you explain that?"
Egholm saw him off, going out to the gate with him, and at the same moment Hedvig opened the kitchen door. Yes, the dish was empty. A good thing they had helped themselves before it went in.
They lit the lamp, and began making things ready for the night. There was a jumble of things in every corner. Empty bottles by the dozen, and in one place she found a parcel, carefully wrapped in newspaper, containing the skins and skeleton remains of smoked herrings. Father, no doubt, thought that was the easiest way of clearing up after him.
"We'll sleep in the little room, of course," said Hedvig firmly to her mother.
"Ye--es," said her mother quietly. But as Hedvig began dragging the bedding across, she put on her sternest face, and said:
"Never you mind where your mother's to sleep or not to sleep. You know your Bible, don't you, enough to remember about man and wife being one?"
"But I'll be there under the window. Yes, that's best."
"I know what I'd have done if I'd been you," said Hedvig firmly. "I wouldn't have washed that dish."
"The one with the poison! Heavens, child--why, they might have been ever so ill!"
"_They might have died!_" Hedvig's eyes were almost white to look at as she spoke.
At the same moment Egholm came in again, and now nothing was heard but the rattle of the iron bedsteads and flapping of sheets and bedclothes patted down. They shared for better or worse. Hedvig was given one iron bedstead in the little room to herself, but had to be content with a woollen blanket and her father's old railway cloak for covering. Fru Egholm had to spread her mattress on the floor till they could get the settee screwed together; then she had a real down coverlet over.