But the priest wanted it white, and
Grindhusen was afraid to contradict, and carefully agreed to all he said,
until at last I put in a word, and said that notices on white paper would
show up better against red. At that the priest smiled, with the endless
wrinkles round his eyes, and said: "Yes, yes, of course, you're quite
right."
And that was enough; just that bit of a smile and saying I was right made
me all glad and proud again within.
Then Frokenen came up, and said a few words to Grindhusen; even jested
with him, asking what that red cardinal was to be stuck up there for on
the road. But to me she said nothing at all, and did not even look at me
when I took off my hat.
Dinner was a sore trial to me that day, not that the food was bad, no, but
Grindhusen, he ate his soup in a disgusting fashion, and his mouth was all
greasy with fat.
"What'll he be like when it comes to eating porridge?" I thought to myself
hysterically.
Then when he leaned back on the bench to rest after his meal in the same
greasy state, I called to him straight out:
"For Heaven's sake, man, aren't you going to wipe your mouth?"
He stared at me, wiping his mouth with one hand.
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