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Updated: May 7, 2025
I want to live peaceably. I shall do what I please on my side of the room, and I want no meddling from you." The cellar-master understood at once that he had here a person not to be trifled with, and from that day there was no difficulty between them. The revolver may or may not have been loaded, but the sight of it had been enough for the cellar-master, as for many a "rough" before.
When, however, she took in the meals she had prepared for the various recipients, it was with a studied ungraciousness, abated only for the cellar-master, who, as she said, had a respectable title of his own, and was suitable company for her.
I know which is her favourite picture, and she will be sure to tell him about it." "Send her to the poorhouse!" exclaimed the pastor. "She's been there often with me when I've been there to wind up Gull's clock, which she is sure to get out of order if Gull touches it herself. Elsa is not afraid of any of them, even of the cellar-master. He really likes her."
In a few days he was almost well, for broken down though he was, he still had some of the vigour of his naturally strong constitution. The funeral was over. Johanson was apparently dozing, lying on his sofa, now in its form for the day; while Gull and the cellar-master were chatting together in low, whispering tones.
Now he understood Gull's new politeness to him, and the kindly willingness with which she saved him in his degradation, for his mother's sake. She could not treat him like a common tenant of the poorhouse, and he was sure she would keep his secret. With the cellar-master it might be a different thing. That his companions knew him was an added humiliation.
These were the quarters Johanson was to share with the broad-chested man in a big chair, who sat with a stout stick beside him, as if ready at any moment to meet the attack of a roving marauder. "This is our cellar-master, Who lived faster and faster, Till here with us he had to be. It's Johanson who comes with me; He'll share your room, at least to-night, And longer if you treat him right."
We, Bacchus, in the might of our great mirth, To all who reverence us, are right thinkers; Hear, all ye drinkers! Give ear and give faith to the edict divine; Montepulciano's the King of all wine. It is necessary, however, that our modern barbarian should travel to Montepulciano itself, and there obtain a flask of manna or vino nobile from some trusty cellar-master.
The pastor had noticed, naturally, that Johanson had not been forward to the Lord's Supper even when the cellar-master had been helped up the aisle from the poorhouse seat near the door, and Gull and the half-mad poet had decorously followed. At this he had hardly been surprised, for there were other members of the congregation who did not communicate more than once a year.
From the pastor and his wife and Elsa Alf had sympathy and aid in all his undertakings, and their friendship was cemented by common work for the common good. The cellar-master did not live to have a place in the new poorhouse.
He probably had not been able to force his way through the heavy drifts and the wild storm which was still raging. The cellar-master was a late sleeper. He woke now to see Johanson hurrying about, evidently making ready for a trip. "What are you doing? You are letting the cold in here, sir," said the old fellow, only half awake. "The poet is missing. He didn't come home last night.
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