"You mark my words," said Nils, "he'll not be
the first to give over. I drove for him last year, and he was drinking all
the way, but never a sign was there to see."
The sun went down. It was growing chilly, perhaps, in the garden; anyway,
the party went indoors. But the big windows were thrown wide, and waves of
melody from Fru Falkenberg's piano poured out. After a while it changed to
dance tunes; jovial Captain Bror, no doubt, was playing now.
"Nice lot, aren't they?" said Nils. "Sit up playing and dancing all night,
and stay in bed all day. I'm going to turn in."
I stayed behind, looking out of the window, and saw my mate Lars
Falkenberg come walking across the courtyard and go up into the house. He
had been sent for to sing to the company. When he has sung for a while,
Captain Bror and some of the others begin to chime in and help, making a
fine merry noise between them. After about an hour in comes Lars
Falkenberg to the servants' quarters with a half-bottle of spirit in his
pocket for his trouble.
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