The Great Hunger Part 3

The schoolmaster lifted his spectacles, stared at the picture, then let down his spectacles again and fell to scrutinising Peer's face. There was a silence for a while, and then he said: "Ah, indeed--I see--h'm."

Then turning to Peer:

"Well, my lad, it was very sudden--your benefactor's end--most unexpected. He is to be buried to-day."

"Benefactor?" thought Peer. "Why doesn't he say 'your father'?"

The schoolmaster was gazing at the window. "He informed me some time ago of--h'm--of all the--all the benefits he had conferred on you--h'm! And he begged me to keep an eye on you myself in case anything happened to him. And now"--the spectacles swung round towards Peer--"now you are starting out in life by yourself, hey?"

"Yes," said Peer, s.h.i.+fting a little in his seat.

"You will have to decide now what walk in life you are to--er--devote yourself to."

"Yes," said Peer again, sitting up straighter.

"You would perhaps like to be a fisherman--like the good people you've been brought up among?"

"No." Peer shook his head disdainfully. Was this man trying to make a fool of him?

"Some trade, then, perhaps?"

"No!"

"Oh, then I suppose it's to be America. Well, you will easily find company to go with. Such numbers are going nowadays--I am sorry to say.

Peer pulled himself together. "Oh, no, not that at all." Better get it out at once. "I wish to be a priest," he said, speaking with a careful town accent.

The schoolmaster rose from his seat, holding his long pipe up in the air in one hand, and pressing his ear forward with the other, as though to hear better. "What?--what did you say?"

"A priest," repeated Peer, but he moved behind his chair as he spoke, for it looked as if the schoolmaster might fling the pipe at his head.

But suddenly the red face broke into a smile, exposing such an array of greenish teeth as Peer had never seen before. Then he said in a sort of singsong, nodding: "A priest? Oh, indeed! Quite a small matter!" He rose and wandered once or twice up and down the room, then stopped, nodded, and said in a fatherly tone--to one of the bookshelves: "H'm--really--really--we're a little ambitious, are we not?"

He turned on Peer suddenly. "Look here, my young friend--don't you think your benefactor has been quite generous enough to you already?"

"Yes, indeed he has," said Peer, his voice beginning to tremble a little.

"There are thousands of boys in your position who are thrown out in the world after confirmation and left to s.h.i.+ft for themselves, without a soul to lend them a helping hand."

"Yes," gasped Peer, looking round involuntarily towards the door.

"I can't understand--who can have put these wild ideas into your head?"

With an effort Peer managed to get out: "It's always been what I wanted.

And he--father--"

"Who? Father--? Do you mean your benefactor?"

"Well, he was my father, wasn't he?" burst out Peer.

The schoolmaster tottered back and sank into a chair, staring at Peer as if he thought him a quite hopeless subject. At last he recovered so far as to say: "Look here, my lad, don't you think you might be content to call him--now and for the future--just your benefactor? Don't you think he deserves it?"

"Oh, yes," whispered Peer, almost in tears.

"You are thinking, of course--you and those who have put all this nonsense into your head--of the money which he--h'm--"

"Yes--isn't there a savings bank account--?"

"Aha! There we are! Yes, indeed. There is a savings bank account--in my care." He rose, and hunted out from a drawer a small green-covered book.

Peer could not take his eyes from it. "Here it is. The sum entered here to your account amounts to eighteen hundred crowns."

Cras.h.!.+ Peer felt as if he had fallen through the floor into the cellarage. All his dreams vanished into thin air--the million crowns--priest and bishop--Christiania--and all the rest.

"On the day when you are in a fair way to set up independently as an artisan, a farmer, or a fisherman--and when you seem to me, to the best of my judgment, to deserve such help--then and not till then I place this book at your disposal. Do you understand what I say?"

"Yes."

"I am perfectly sure that I am in full agreement with the wishes of the donor in deciding that the money must remain untouched in my safe keeping until then."

"Yes," whispered Peer.

"What?--are you crying?"

"N-no. Good-morning--"

"No, pray don't go yet. Sit down. There are one or two things we must get settled at once. First of all--you must trust me, my good boy. Do you believe that I wish you well, or do you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then it is agreed that all these fancies about going to college and so forth must be driven out of your head once for all?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"You can see yourself that, even supposing you had the mental qualifications, such a sum, generous as it is in itself, would not suffice to carry you far."

"No-no, sir."

"On the other hand, if you wish it, I will gladly arrange to get you an apprentice's place with a good handicraftsman here. You would have free board there, and--well, if you should want clothes the first year or so, I dare say we could manage that. You will be better without pocket-money to fling about until you can earn it for yourself."

Peer sighed, and drooped as he stood. When he saw the green-backed book locked into its drawer again, and heard the keys rattle as they went back into a pocket under the dressing-gown, he felt as if some one were pointing a jeering finger at him, and saying, "Yah!"

"Then there's another thing. About your name. What name have you thought of taking, my lad--surname, I mean?"

"My name is Peer Holm!" said the boy, instinctively drawing himself up as he had done when the bishop had patted his head at the confirmation and asked his name.

The schoolmaster pursed up his lips, took off his spectacles and wiped them, put them on again, and turned to the bookshelves with a sigh. "Ah, indeed!--yes--yes--I almost thought as much."

Then he came forward and laid a hand kindly on Peer's shoulder.