"My friend B. - head, red - boots, yellow, brown, gold - coat, little
squares - nose, much, large! Is he where? Him to see - anybody -
where?"
Not a soul moved a hand to help me. There they stood and gaped!
I repeated it all over again louder, in case anybody on the
outskirts of the mob had not heard it; and I repeated it in an
entirely new accent. I gave them every chance I could.
They chatted excitedly among themselves, and, then a bright idea
seemed to strike one of them, a little more intelligent-looking than
the rest, and he rushed outside and began running up and down,
calling out something very loudly, in which the word "Norwegian"
kept on occurring.
He returned in a few seconds, evidently exceedingly pleased with
himself, accompanied by a kindly-looking old gentleman in a white
hat.
Way was made in the crowd, and the old gentleman pressed forward.
When he got near, he smiled at me, and then proceeded to address to
me a lengthy, but no doubt kindly meant, speech in Scandinavian.
Of course, it was all utterly unintelligible to me from beginning to
end, and my face clearly showed this. I can grasp a word or two of
Scandinavian here and there, if pronounced slowly and distinctly;
but that is all.
The old gentleman regarded me with great surprise. He said (in
Scandinavian, of course):
"You speak Norwegian?"
I replied, in the same tongue:
"A little, a very little - VERY."
He seemed not only disappointed, but indignant.
