Look Back on Happiness Part 30

"Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he said. "Born of a maiden!"

"That's better!" the others remarked. "Now let's do something," they said.

"Where do you live?" to the girl.

"I've lived at such and such places," she replied.

"_Have_ lived; very well, this is what we'll do," one of them said, taking out his pocketbook. The others followed suit, and a great deal of money was pushed into the girl's hand.

"Wait a minute--wait--I haven't given her enough; I asked her such a nasty question," said the first of them.

"Neither have I," said another, "because we all thought the same thing, but now we're going to settle some money on this son of a maiden!"

A collection was taken up, with Helgesen as the cas.h.i.+er. Then Bengt hailed a cab, invited the girl to enter, and got in after her.

"Go ahead--I want to go to Langes Street!" he called to the driver.

Bengt was taking the child home to his mother, the others said. The group were rather silent after this.

"Your eyes are so ridiculously wet, Bolt; are you crying about the money?"

"What about you?" Bolt replied. "You're as sentimental as an old woman!"

They grew cheerful again, and there were further "opportunities." A peasant came down the street with a cow he was taking to the butcher's.

"What will you charge for letting our guest of honor ride your cow?" young Rolandsen asked him. The peasant smiled and shook his head. So they bought the cow from him, paying cash for it. "Wait a minute," they said to the peasant. Then they put a label on the cow, addressed to a lady they knew.

"Take it to this address," they said to the peasant.

By the time they had finished with this, Bengt had returned.

"Where have _you_ been?" they asked in surprise.

"The old lady said yes," was all he replied.

"Hurrah!" they all shouted. "Let's drink to the baby! Here, let's go to the bar. Did she really say yes? Hurrah for the old lady, too! What are we standing here for? Let's walk into the bar!"

_"Walk!"_ someone mocks. "No, indeed, we'll drive-waiter, cars!"

The waiter rushed inside to telephone. It took some time, as it was getting late, but the gentlemen waited. It was already closing time and people were streaming out of the bar. At length the cars arrived, ten of them, one for each man. The gentlemen entered them.

"Where to?" asked the drivers.

"Next door," they said.

So the cars drove up to the next door of the same house, that being the bar, and there the gentlemen gravely got out and paid the drivers.

The bar was closed.

"Shall we break in?" they said.

"Of course," they said.

So they all ran against the door together, till it said _ump!_ and flew open. The night watchman rushed at them, shouting, and they caught hold of him, slapped him on the back, and embraced him. Then they went behind the counter and got out bottles for him and for themselves, drinking and shouting hurrah for the baby, for Bengt's mother, for the baby's mother, for the night watchman, for love and for life. When they had done, they put some banknotes over the night watchman's mouth and tied a handkerchief over them. Then they went back to the dining room.

The supper was served. Flaten's plate was a red silk bedroom slipper lined with gla.s.s. They ate and drank and rollicked as long as they had the strength; the hours pa.s.sed, and dawn approached. Then Flaten began to distribute souvenirs among them. One got his watch, another his pocketbook (which was empty), a third his tie pin. After this he went on to his shoes, giving one to each of two friends, his trousers to another, and his s.h.i.+rt to still another, till at length he sat there in the nude. Next they collected quilts from the hotel bedrooms to wrap him up in--red silk eiderdown quilts. Flaten fell asleep and the other nine watched over him.

He slept for an hour; it was morning then, and they woke him up. He started up from the quilts, found he was naked, and sent home for some more clothes. And then the party began all over again....

Later we were discussing Miss Torsen's story; she had forgotten one or two details which she filled in afterwards.

"Anyhow, it was lucky for the girl with the baby," she said.

"And for the baby itself," I said.

"Yes. But what an idea! Poor old lady, to be told such a tale!"

"Some day perhaps you'll change your mind about that."

"You think so? But it would have been nicer still if I'd got the money they settled on the child."

"You'll change your mind about that, too."

"Shall I? Why? When?"

"When you yourself have a baby that smiles at you."

"Ugh, how can you say such things!"

She must have misunderstood my meaning, for she was childishly offended.

To restore her to good humor I asked at random:

"What sort of food did you get at the party?"

"Don't know," she replied.

"Don't you know?"

"Good lord, no--I wasn't there," she returned in the greatest amazement.

"Well, no, of course not, I only thought--"

"Oh, so that's it. That's what you thought!" she said, still more offended. And she clasped her hands as she had done in the summer, and tore them apart again.

"Really and truly, I do a.s.sure you--look here, honestly--I only thought you were taking a culinary interest. After all, you do learn cooking and such in the daytime."

"Oh, so you just make conversation with me; you adapt your speech to suit my narrow outlook!"

A pause.

"Anyhow, perhaps you're right up to a point; I might have asked about the food, only I forgot."