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remain four or five days in Tromsö, and we knew
of no other refuge for so large a party. The
resemblance to a common rough English public-house
was unpleasantly strong. The remains of much
drinking were on the rough wooden tables, and the
hostess was sadly troubled with her difficulty in
finding sleeping rooms. We had bespoken them
by telegraph two days before, but this fact only
increased her confusion and general muddlement;
for a young American displayed his “smartness”
by forcing his way into the house by a back door
while we waited in front, and by taking possession
of the best double-bedded room, locking the door,
pocketing and walking away with the key. He
further displayed his smartness by answering or
nodding in the affirmative when the hostess asked
him whether it was he who sent the telegram.
This, as I explained to him—with the utmost
possible delicacy of course—is not called
“smartness” in England; we have a much shorter name
for it. After much altercation, he was made to
understand that pocketing a key does not convey
a title to possession of the tenement it locks; but
in Norway, as in other civilized countries, renders
the pocketer liable to the consequences well known
to fall upon
“’im wot steals wot isn’t ’isn.”
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