The things we do!

"Yes, indeed; I tuned the one on the farm down below."
"Mine's a grand piano, and a good one. I shouldn't like it...."
"Fruen can be easy about that."
"Have you any sort of...."
"I've no certificate, no. It's not my way to ask for such. But Fruen can
come and hear me."
"Well, perhaps--yes, come this way."
She went into the house, and he followed. I looked through the doorway as
they went in, and saw a room with many pictures on the walls.
The maids fussed about in and out of the kitchen, casting curious glances
at me, stranger as I was; one of the girls was quite nice-looking. I was
thankful I had shaved that morning.
Some ten minutes passed; Falkenberg had begun. Fruen came out into the
kitchen again and said:
"And to think you speak French! It's more than I do."
Now, Heaven be thanked for that. I had no wish to go farther with it
myself. If I had, it would have been mostly hackneyed stuff, about
returning to our muttons and looking for the lady in the case, and the
State, that's me, and so on.


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