ÅSE
[rummaging about]
Why, what have we here? I declare it’s an old
casting-ladle, Kari! With this he would play
button-moulder, would melt, and then shape, and then stamp
them. One day — there was company — in the boy came,
and begged of his father a lump of tin.
“No tin,” says Jon, “but King Christian’s coin;
silver; to show you’re the son of Jon Gynt.”
God pardon him, Jon; he was drunk, you see,
and then he cared neither for tin nor for gold.
Here are the hose. Oh, they’re nothing but holes;
they want darning, Kari!