Page:Tales from the Fjeld.djvu/199

Rh chattering, and shivered and shook, and read out of a big book, almost like a little child.

"Good evening, father," said the man. "Will you let me have house-room here to-night?"

"I'm not father in the house," said the man who sat at the table, whose teeth chattered, and who shivered and shook; "but speak to my father yonder—he who sits on the bench."

So the wayfarer went to him who sat on the bench, and he was trying to fill himself a pipe of tobacco; but he was so withered up and his hands shook so with the palsy that he could scarce hold the pipe.

"Good evening, father," said the wayfarer again. "Can I get house-room here to-night?"

"I'm not father in the house," said the old withered fellow; "but speak to my father who lies in bed yonder."

So the wayfarer went to the bed, and there lay an old, old man, who but for his pair of big staring eyes scarcely looked alive.

"Good evening, father," said the wayfarer. "Can I get house-room here to-night?"

"I'm not father in the house," said the old carle with the big eyes; "but go and speak to my father, who lies yonder in the cradle."

Yes, the wayfarer went to the cradle, and there lay a carle as old as the hills, so withered and shrivelled he was no bigger than a baby, and it was hard to tell that there was any life in him, except that there was a sound of breathing every now and then in his throat.

"Good evening, father," said the wayfarer. "May I have house-room here to-night?"