"
The school-master gives himself plenty of time, searches for his
spectacles in order to read the title of the book, wipes them and puts
them on.
"You are growing old, now, Ole."
"Yes, it was about that I wanted to talk with you. I am tottering
downward; I will soon rest in the grave."
"You must see to it that you rest well there, Ole."
He closes the book and sits looking at the binding.
"That is a good book you are holding in your hands."
"It is not bad. How often have you gone beyond the cover, Ole?"
"Why, of late, I"--
The school-master lays aside the book and puts away his spectacles.
"Things are not going as you wish to have them, Ole?"
"They have not done so as far back as I can remember."
"Ah, so it was with me for a long time. I lived at variance with a
good friend, and wanted _him_ to come to _me_, and all the while I was
unhappy. At last I took it into my head to go to _him_, and since then
all has been well with me."
Ole looks up and says nothing.
The school-master: "How do you think the gard is doing, Ole?"
"Failing, like myself."
"Who shall have it when you are gone?"
"That is what I do not know, and it is that, too, which troubles me."
"Your neighbors are doing well now, Ole."
"Yes, they have that agriculturist to help them."
The school-master turned unconcernedly toward the window: "You should
have help,--you, too, Ole.
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