Egholm stood in front of the mirror, smoothing his wreath of hair. His pupil was due for the English lesson.
"The Pupil" was a subject of considerable importance in the house, especially to Egholm's own mind. It was no other than Meilby, the sharp-tongued photographer, who had started taking lessons in the previous November. After many mysterious hints, and exacting a promise of silence, he had confided to Egholm that he was going to America in a few months' time. Egholm had grabbed at him avidly and without ceremony, as a chance of work. Regarded as a pupil, he was by no means promising. He had but the faintest conception of any difference between parts of speech such as substantives and adjectives, and whenever his mentor touched on genitives and possessives, he would glance absently towards the door. Furthermore, he never paid any fees, which was a subject of constant tribulation between Anna and her husband.
"But it's a good thing to have a little outstanding. Like capital in the bank, against a rainy day."
Anna made no answer to this. It seemed to her mind that the days were rainy enough to call for all the capital by any means available.
Egholm sniffed vigorously, and postponed the matter further. But now it was February, and he must raise the question somehow. He smoothed his hair with extra attention, to make the most of his dignity when the pupil arrived. Unfortunately, he could hardly point to the goods delivered and demand payment in cash--the goods were so little in evidence.
It passed off better than he had expected. Meilby said "Good evening" in English when he arrived, and laughed a little nervously, as if dismayed at his own courage. Egholm snatched at the opening, and came to the point at once:
"That's right, that's right--you're getting on. Getting on, yes. But don't you think, now, you might let me have a little on account?"
Meilby laughed no more. Money--it was always such a nuisance about money. There didn't seem to be any money these days. Money was a thing extinct, he said.
But no need to bother about that. It would be all right. Only wait to the end of the month, and then it would be decided. "Whether I'm to go or not," said Meilby.
Of course, he didn't want to go. Much rather stay where he was. But, of course, he would go all the same. What else could he do? And if he went, why, then, of course, Egholm would get his money. That was how it stood. How else could it be?