ls, as I have so
often advised you?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, we have tried that, but he was more trouble than it
was worth.

Hamar. Yes, because he had no invention. Get a French chef!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, and have to be always beside him to interpret!--But I
am no nearer this dinner. And lately I have been finding such difficulty
in getting about.

Hamar. I have never in my life heard so much talk about meals as I have
in this house.

Mrs. Tjaelde. You see, you have never been in a prosperous
business-man's house before. Our friends are mostly business-men, of
course--and most of them have no greater pleasures than those of the
table.

Signe. That's true.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you wearing _that_ dress to-day?

Signe. Yes.

Mrs. Tjaelde. You have worn a different one every day.

Signe. Well, if Hamar is tired of both the blue one and the grey one,
what can I do?

Hamar. And I don't like this one any better than the others.

Signe. Indeed!--Then I really think you had better order me one
yourself.

Hamar. Come to town with me, and I will!

Signe. Yes, mother--Hamar and I have made up our minds that we must go
back to town. [Note: There would be nothing contrary to Norwegian ideas
of propriety in Signe's proposal. In Norway an engaged couple could
travel alone; and the fiancee would go to stay in the house of her
future husband's relations.]

Mrs. Tjaelde. But you were there only a fortnight ago!

Hamar. And it is exactly a fortnight too long since we were there!

Mrs. Tjaelde. (thoughtfully). Now, what _can_ I order for dinner?

(VALBORG comes into sight on the verandah.)

Signe (turning round and seeing VALBORG). Enter Her Highness!

Hamar (turning round). Carrying a bouquet! Oho! I have seen it before!

Signe. Have you? Did _you_ give it her?

Hamar. No; I was coming through the garden--and saw it on the table in
Valborg's summerhouse. Is it your birthday, Valborg?

Valborg. No.

Hamar. I thought not. Perhaps there is some other festivity to-day?

Valborg. No. (SIGNE suddenly bursts out laughing.)

Hamar. Why do you laugh?

Signe. Because I understand! Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Hamar. What do you understand?

Signe. Whose hands it is that have decked the altar! Ha, ha, ha!

Hamar. I suppose you think they were mine?

Signe. No, they were redder hands than yours! Ha, ha, ha, ha! (VALBORG
throws the bouquet down.) Oh, dear me, it doesn't do to laugh so much in
this heat. But it is delightful! To th