he goes to open the door, and
returns, showing in the DOCTOR.)

The Doctor. Oho! Is it to be in here to-night?

Ingeborg (who has resumed her work of making the room ready). Yes, sir.

The Doctor. Where are they all?

Ingeborg. At the meeting, sir.

The Doctor. All of them?

Ingeborg. Yes, all of them. Miss Gertrud went first--

The Doctor. Yes, I saw her well enough!

Ingeborg. And then the master, and a farmer gentleman with him, came in
to fetch the mistress.

The Doctor (to himself). Something has happened here, then. (Aloud.)
Tell me, Ingeborg--has _he_ been here again? You know who I mean.
(Coughs in imitation of the EDITOR'S cough.)

Ingeborg. Oh, the Editor; no, sir.

The Doctor (to himself). I wonder what has happened. (Aloud.) Well,
evidently there is to be a festivity here to-night; and, as I see the
chairs are getting their covers taken off, I may as well take mine off
too. (Takes off his coat and gives it to INGEBORG, who carries it out.)
I don't blame Evje for wanting to celebrate Harald's success after a
meeting like that! He is not exactly eloquent in the ordinary sense
of the word--doesn't bother about his antitheses and climaxes and
paradoxes, and all that sort of nonsense; but he is a _man_! He goes
bail for what he says, and he says what he likes--ha, ha! And that dear
Gertrud, too! Follows him into the hall, and, as there isn't a single
seat left there, goes up on to the platform among the committee, and
sits there looking at him with those trustful blue eyes of hers, as if
there was no one else in the room! And _we_ were all looking at _her_!
She helped him more than ten good speakers would have done, I am sure.
Her faith in him bred it in others, whether they liked it or no. She
is one who would die for her faith! Yes, yes! The man that gets her--.
(INGEBORG comes back.) Well! (Rubs his hands together.) Look here,
Ingeborg. (Very politely.) Do you know what is meant by the Rights of
Man?

Ingeborg (going on with her work). No, sir. Something we have earned, I
suppose.

The Doctor. Yes, you earn them every day.

Ingeborg. Our meals, perhaps?

The Doctor (laughing). No, it isn't something to eat, unfortunately.
(Politely.) Do you ever read papers, Ingeborg?

Ingeborg. Papers? Oh, you mean the price-lists they leave at the kitchen
door. Yes, sir; every day, before we go to market, I--

The Doctor. No, I don't mean papers of that sort. I mean--

Ingeborg. Oh, you mean the newsp