The things we do!

The hours passed, the
night came on, and I was so in love I walked there bare-headed, letting
myself be stared out of all countenance by the stars.
"How's the time?" Grindhusen might ask when I came back to the barn.
"Just gone eleven," I would say, though it might be two or three in the
morning.
"Huh! And a nice time to be coming to bed. _Fansmagt!_ Waking folk up
when they've been sleeping decently!"
And Grindhusen turns over on the other side, to fall asleep again in a
moment. There was no trouble with Grindhusen.
Eyah, it's over-foolish of a man to fall in love when he's getting on in
years. And who was it set out to show there _was_ a way to quiet and
peace of mind?


X

A man came out for his bricklayer's tools; he wanted them back. What? Then
Grindhusen had not stolen them at all! But it was always the same with
Grindhusen: commonplace, dull, and ordinary, never great in anything,
never a lofty mind.
I said:
"You, Grindhusen, there's nothing in you but eat and sleep and work.


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