s to ramble over the town?"

"No," said Grant, in a deep bass voice.

"Why?"

"Because I won't."

"A most excellent reason; one much in use in this world," replied
Temple, laughing. "By the way, will you remember to order two sheep to
be killed for our voyage north?"

"Yes," in a sulky tone from Grant.

"Now mind, I trust this to you."

"Go away, and don't bother!"

Thus dismissed, Temple and Sorrel went out and sauntered towards the
fish-market.

Now, fish-markets are famous all the world over for noise, riot, and
confusion. The fish-market of Bergen is no exception to the rule; but
there is this peculiarity about it, that the sellers of fish are all
men, and the buyers all women; moreover, the noise is all on the side of
the buyers! The scene of the market is the pier, alongside of which the
fishermen's boats are ranged; and here the fish are sold direct from the
boats by the men to all the servant-girls of the town, who assemble each
morning to purchase the day's dinner.

The men, standing in the boats, are considerably below the level of the
pier, so that they have to look up at the girls, who look down at them
with eager, anxious faces. The men, sure that their fish will be sold
in the long-run, are quiet sedate, silent. The women, anxious to get
good bargains and impatient to get home, bend forward, shouting,
screaming, and flourishing arms, fists, and umbrellas. Every one
carries an umbrella in Bergen, for that city is said to be the rainiest
in the world. Of gay colours are these umbrellas too. Pink and
sky-blue are not uncommon. There is a stout iron rail round the pier,
which prevents the eager females from tumbling headlong into the boats.
Over this they lean and bargain.

Fierce were the pretty blue eyes of these Norse females, and flushed
were their fair faces, and tremendous was the flourishing of their
umbrellas and the shaking of their fists, at the time when Temple and
Sorrel approached. The fishermen were used to it; they only smiled, or
paid no attention whatever to the noise. And what was all the noise
about? You shall hear.

Look at yonder flaxen-haired, pretty-faced, stoutish little girl,
leaning so far over the iron rail that it seems her desire to tumble
over it, and plunge into the arms of a rough old fisherman, who is
gazing quietly up at her with a sarcastic smile. He has put up a lot of
fish for which she has offered "sex (six) skillings." A skilling is
about eq