"Yes," she whispered.
Ole joined them; he had not been able to get hold of Arendal at once; he
could not get a reply until to-morrow. Off to Sara now! He really had a
surprise for them--he carried in his pocket Ojen's latest work. They just
ought to hear it!
II
Quite a number of the clique were ensconced at Sara's, drinking and
gossiping. Tidemand was there, happy and contented with everything. He had
been all smiles since his success with that enormous enterprise in rye.
The grain had begun to arrive and was being stored in his warehouses,
thousands upon thousands of sacks. They grew into mountains; there was no
room for anything else; even Ole Henriksen had been obliged to let him
have space for storing. Tidemand walked around and viewed this wealth with
pride; even he had accomplished something above the ordinary. Never for an
instant did he regret that he had given such unlimited orders.
Journalist Gregersen offered Ole one finger and said: "You have something
on your conscience, Ole?"
"Oh, nothing sensational, exactly," said Ole. "I had a letter from Ojen;
he sends me his latest poem. Do you want to hear it?"
"Does he send you his--Has he sent you a manuscript?" exclaimed Milde in
astonishment.
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