Garman And Worse A Norwegian Novel, Alexander Lange Kielland [best novels to read in english .txt] 📗

Well Together. It Was Thus No Light Matter For

The Widow To Betake Herself To Consul Garman; But Mr. Samuelsen Had

Assured Her That It Was Quite Out Of The Question To Think Of Keeping

The Business Going Without A Guarantee From Garman And Worse.

 

When The Consul Saw Mrs. Worse Come Into The Room,  He Imagined That She

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Was Bringing A Subscription-List To Raise The Means For Educating Her

Son,  Or Something Of That Sort; And,  As He Offered Her A Chair On The

Opposite Side Of The Table,  He Turned Over In His Mind How Much He

Should Subscribe. But When Mrs. Worse Began To Give An Explanation Of

Her Affairs,  According To The Calculations Of Pitter Nilken,  The

Consul'S Manner Changed,  And He Got Up,  Walked Round The Table,  And

Seated Himself Near Her. He Calmly And Patiently Examined Each Paper,

Went Through The Calculations And Figures,  And At Last Read The Draught

Of A Guarantee Which Samuelsen Had Made,  With The Greatest Attention.

 

"Who Has Assisted You With All This,  Mrs. Worse?" He Asked.

 

"Mr. Samuelsen," She Answered,  Somewhat Anxiously.

 

"Samuelsen? Samuelsen?" Repeated The Consul.

 

"Yes,  That Is To Say,  Pitter Nilken. Perhaps You Know Him Better By That

Name."

 

"Ah Yes! The Little Man In The Shop. H'M! Does Mr. Samuelsen Wish To Go

Into Partnership With You?"

 

"No. I Have Asked Him,  But He Prefers To Remain In His Present Position,

And Give Me His Assistance In The Business."

 

The Consul Got Up With The Guarantee In His Hand. It Was One Of His

Peculiarities That He Could Not Write The Signature Of The Firm Except

When He Was Sitting In His Usual Place. But As Soon As He Had Seated

Himself In The Old Wooden Armchair,  He Wrote In a Large And Bold Hand,

"Garman And Worse," Taking Care To Adorn The Signature With Several

Flourishes,  Which He Had Inherited From His Predecessors.

 

Armed With This Document,  Mrs. Worse And Mr. Samuelsen Set To Work At

The Ruins. The First Thing They Did Was To Sell Everything There Was To

Sell; But,  With The Assistance Of Mr. Garman,  They Managed To Save The

Whole Of The Valuable Premises. The Front Of The House Was Let,  And The

Old Lady Moved Over To The Back,  Where She Took Turns In The Shop With

Mr. Samuelsen. She Was At Her Post From Early In The Morning Till Late

In The Evening,  Gossiping With Her Customers,  And Selling Tobacco,

Tallow Candles,  Salt,  Coffee,  Tar-Twine,  Herrings,  Train Oil,  Paraffin,

Tarpaulins,  Paint,  And Many Other Commodities.

 

In The Course Of A Few Years Mrs. Worse Quite Lost Her Manners. People

In Polite Society Had Never Forgiven Her Her Drive,  But Still Less Were

They Willing To Look Over The Fact That She,  A Lady,  Had Not More

Self-Respect Than To Sink Down Into The Position Of A Common Shop-Woman.

The Lower Orders,  On The Other Hand,  Had Quite A Fellow-Feeling For Mrs.

Worse,cfair As It Was,  Went On Capitally.

 

The Trustworthy Mr,  Samuelsen Did The Work Of Three. He Was A Little

Grey Shrivelled Man,  With A Face Like A Dried Fig. He Might Be Forty,  Or

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He Might Be Sixty,  It Was Not Easy To Tell. In His Monotonous Life There

Had Only Been One Single Event Which He Particularly Remembered,  And

That Was The Afternoon When He Had Taken His Books And Calculations In

To Mrs. Worse,  And Since That Time He Had,  With The Greatest Honesty,

Helped Her To Overcome Her Many Difficulties. Mr. Samuelsen Had Also His

Own Private Enemies To Contend Against,  And These Consisted Of Nearly

All The School Children In The Town. It Had Always Been,  And Was Still,

A Favourite Amusement For The Children To "Sing For Pitter Nilken." The

Game Was Carried On In The Following Manner. Boys And Girls All

Assembled,  The More The Merrier,  Generally In The Dusk Of The Evening,

And Sneaked Quietly Down Into The Alley At The Back Of The Worses'

House,  And When They Got Under Samuelsen'S Shop-Window,  They Began

Singing,  To A Well-Known Air--

 

     "Little Pitter Nilken,

     Sitting On His Chair!

     He'S Always Growing Smaller,

     The Longer He Sits There."

 

This Couplet Was Repeated Again And Again,  Each Time In a Louder Tone,

Until The Tormented Man Seized His Iron Ruler And Sprang Over The

Counter. Then Off Flew The Crowd,  Screaming And Shouting Along The

Narrow Lane,  For There Was An Old Tradition That The Iron Ruler Had A

Rusty Stain Of Blood On It. Samuelsen Would Then Retire Quietly To His

Desk. In The Course Of Years The Episode Had Been Of Constant

Occurrence,  And He Well Knew That The Only Way Of Getting A Little Peace

Was To Make This Sally With The Ruler.

 

No One Could Blame Mrs. Worse For Making An Idol Of Her Son; He Was All

She Had To Care For. Although Jacob Was A Good Son,  And Grew Up Strong

And Healthy,  He Had Cost His Mother Many Tears When He Came Home From

School Bruised And Untidy After A Fight. The Boy Had Almost Too Much

Spirit,  As The Principal Said,  And When He Was Roused He Did Not Mind

Tackling The Biggest And Strongest Boys In The School. But He Got Better

As Time Went On,  And When He Came Home From Abroad To Take His Place In

The Business,  He Was,  And Not Only In His Mother'S Opinion,  One Of The

Best-Looking And Most Agreeable Young Men In The Town.

 

Jacob Worse Took His Father'S Old Office In The Front Of The House,

Which Looked On To The Market And The Quay. He Carried On A Business

Partly On Commission And Partly On His Own Account. He Did A Good Deal

Of Trade,  Particularly In corn,  Which Had Hitherto Been Almost Entirely

In The Hands Of Garman And Worse. The Old Firm Had Established Itself So

Securely On Every Side,  That He Seemed To Meet Them Whichever Way He

Turned.

 

Morten Wished That Garman And Worse Should At Once Use Their Strength,

And Crush Their Tiny Rival Before He Had Had Time To Become Dangerous,

But Consul Garman Would Not Hear Of It. He Seemed To Have An

Extraordinary Liking For Worse,  And Even Went Out Of His Way To Help

Him,  And Latterly "The Rival" Had Become A Constant Sunday Guest At

Sandsgaard.

 

At First Jacob Worse Did Not Like Leaving His Mother On Sunday,  But Mrs.

Worse Said,  "Go Along,  You Great Stupid! Do You Suppose That Samuelsen

And I Care To Have You Sitting And Laughing At Us When We Are Playing

Draughts; And Besides," Said She,  Giving Him A Sly Poke With Her Finger,

"Don'T You Know There Is Somebody Out There That Expects You?"

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"Ah,  Mother,  Do Stop Those Insinuations Of Yours; You Know Perfectly

Well Nothing Will Ever Come Of It."

 

"Now,  Jacob," Said Mrs. Worse,  With Her Arms Akimbo,  "You Think Yourself

Very Clever,  But I Tell You You Are As Stupid As An Owl,  A Barn-Door

Owl,  When It Is Anything To Do With Women. You Ought To See It Must All

Come Right Some Day. I Dare Say Miss Rachel Is A Little Bit Singular,

But She Is Not Quite Cracked. You See,  It Will All Get Straight In The

End; It Will Still All Come Right Some Day."

 

This Was The Refrain Of All Mrs. Worse'S Observations On This Head,  And

Her Son Saw Plainly It Was Of No Use To Contradict Her. It Was Of No Use

Either To Advise Her To Give Up Her Shop,  Or,  At Any Rate,  To Give Up

The Management To Somebody Else.

 

"Why,  I Should Die Of Dropsy," Said She,  "And Samuelsen Would Dry Up To

Nothing In about A Fortnight,  If We Had Not Got The Shop To Attend To."

 

"Yes," Suggested Jacob,  "But Still You Need Not Work Any Longer: You

Have Earned Some Rest For Your Old Days; Besides,  Your Legs Are Not So

Young As They Were."

 

"As To My Legs," Cried Mrs. Worse,  With A Gesture Of Impatience,  "My

Legs Are Quite Good Enough For A Shop-Woman."

 

"Well,  Why Not Get A Horse And Carriage? You Have Every Right To Have

One."

 

"I Took A Drive Once That Made Stir Enough," Answered His Mother; "I

Hope To Take Another Some Day,  But That Won'T Be Before Everything Comes

Right."

 

It Was No Use Trying To Persuade Her,  And So She And Samuelsen Remained

In The Back Premises They Were So Fond Of,  And Jacob Set Up His

Establishment In The Front.

 

When Mrs. Worse Was In Her Son'S Rooms,  She Used To Play The Fine Lady

To Her Own Great Edification; But When She Got Him Into Her Own

Apartments,  Her Behaviour Entirely Changed,  And Her Laughter Was Coarse

And Noisy. Her Manners Had Really Quite Gone.

 

One Saturday Afternoon Delphin Came Into Jacob Worse'S Office With Some

Books He Had Borrowed.

 

"Have You Heard That I Have Bought A Horse?" Asked He,  In a Merry Tone.

 

"No," Answered Worse. "What New Folly Now?"

 

"Well,  You See,  I Have Got An Idea That It Will Make A Favourable

Impression On Miss Madeleine If She Sees Me On Horseback. Just Fancy Me

On A Horse With A Long Mane And Tail,  Like The Picture Of General Prim;

There!" And He Went Cantering Round The Room,  And Pulled Up Suddenly

Before Worse--"There,  Like That: A Good Fierce Expression. Is Not That

It? I Believe That Will Do The Business."

 

Worse Could Not Help Laughing,  Although He Did Not Think Much Of The

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Frivolous Way Delphin Had Of Paying His Addresses To Madeleine.

 

"You Are Not Going To Ride Up To Sandsgaard This