malarious evening in September. HILDA and BOLETTA, MRS. WANGEL'S
step-daughters, are, as usual, failing to catch the carp which are
said to haunt the pond._
BOLETTA.
Do you think _she_ [_nodding towards MRS. WANGEL, who prowls to and fro
on the damp lawn with a shawl over her head_] is any better?
HILDA.
No, worse.
BOLETTA.
[_Cheerfully._] Oh, she can't be worse.
HILDA.
That's all very well for you. You're going to be married. It doesn't
matter to you _how_ mad she is! You'll be out of it before long.
BOLETTA.
[_Jubilantly._] Yes, I shall be out of it.
HILDA.
But I shan't. [_Darkly._] However, perhaps she'll go away soon.
BOLETTA.
Papa still thinks of moving to the sea-side then?
HILDA.
[_Crossly._] Oh, Papa--Papa never thinks!
BOLETTA.
Hush, Hilda. What dreadful things you say!
HILDA.
[_Grimly._] Not half so dreadful as the things I should like to do.
BOLETTA.
Hilda!
HILDA.
Oh, yes, I should. And I _will_ when I grow up. I'll make
Master-builder Solnes tumble off one of his own steeples. Think of that
now!
BOLETTA.
What a horrid child you are! And just when I thought you were beginning
to get on better with _her_ too! [_Nodding toward MRS. WANGEL._] It's
most provoking.
HILDA.
I call it perfectly thrilling, myself. But here she comes. [_MRS.
WANGEL approaches._] Go away. I want to talk to her. [_Exit BOLETTA
doubtfully._] How are you to-day, Mother?
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Absently._] Eh?
HILDA.
[_Controlling her impatience._] I asked how you were.
MRS. WANGEL.
But you called me mother. I'm not your mother. I'm only your
step-mother.
HILDA.
But I can't address you as step-mother. "People don't do those things,"
as dear Hedda Gabler always says.
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Whose attention is clearly wandering._] I suppose they don't.
HILDA.
Mother, have you seen _him_?
MRS. WANGEL.
I believe Wangel is in the surgery.
HILDA.
I don't mean Papa. What does it matter where Papa is! I mean The
Stranger. The English steamer is at the pier. It arrived last night.
[_Looks at MRS. WANGEL meaningly._]
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Vaguely._] Is it, dear? You astonish me.
HILDA.
You will go and see him, won't you?
MRS. WANGEL.
Oh, of course, of course.
HILDA.
I think it must be so perfectly thrilling to go down all by one's self
to a steamer to see a strange man who is not one's husband.
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Recalling with difficulty her old phrase._] Oh, yes--yes. It allures
me wonderfully.
HILDA.
I should go at once, if I were you, before Papa comes out.
MRS. WANGEL.
Don't you think I ought to tell Wangel? I have always been accustomed
to consult him before eloping with anyone else.
HILDA.
I think not. You must go of your own free will. You see, Papa might
_urge_ you to go. And then it would not be altogether your own will
that sent you, would it? It would be partly his.
MRS. WANGEL.
So it would.
HILDA.
Isn't it splendid to think of your going away with him to-night, quite,
quite away, across the sea?
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Doubtfully._] Yes.
HILDA.
You know you always like the sea. You talk so much about it. It
_allures_ you, you know.
MRS. WANGEL.
Yes, the idea of it is wonderfully alluring. [_With misgiving._] But
I've never been _on_ the sea.
HILDA.
[_Enthusiastically._] That's what makes the idea so thrilling. It will
be quite a new sensation! The sea is so fresh and buoyant, you know!
So _rough_! Not like these vapid fiords where it's always calm. Quite
different altogether.
MRS. WANGEL.
Ah, there's Wangel.
[_Enter DR. WANGEL._
HILDA.
Bother!
[_She returns to her fishing for the carp,
which are never caught._
DR. WANGEL.
Ah, Ellida, is that you?
MRS. WANGEL.
Yes, Wangel.
DR. WANGEL.
Not brooding, I trust, dear? Not letting your mind dwell on The
Stranger, eh?
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Always ready to adopt an idea from any quarter._] Of course, Wangel,
I never can quite get the idea of The Stranger out of my mind.
[Illustration: E. J. Wheeler.
"Not brooding, I trust, dear?"]
DR. WANGEL.
[_Shaking his head._] Silly girl, silly girl. And the sea, too? Still
full of the sea?
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Taking up the cue at once._] Ah, the sea, the wonderful, changeful
sea! So fresh and buoyant, you know! So rough! Not like these vapid
fiords. I had a child whose eyes were like the sea.
DR. WANGEL.
[_Testily._] I assure you, Ellida, you are wrong. The child's eyes
were just like other children's eyes. All children's eyes are. [_HILDA
suppresses a slight giggle. WANGEL notices her for the first time._]
Fishing, Hilda?
HILDA.
[_Darkly._] Yes, Papa. Trying to hook a silly old carp. I think I shall
catch her in the end.
DR. WANGEL.
[_With interest._] What bait do you use?
HILDA.
Oh, I have been very careful about the _bait_. My fish rose to it at
once.
DR. WANGEL.
Well, well, I must go back to the surgery. Good-bye, Ellida; and, mind,
no brooding about the sea!
[_Exit._
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Ecstatically._] Oh, the sea, the sea!
HILDA.
Yes, you'll be on it soon. Won't it be thrilling? I really think you
ought to start at once.
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Helplessly._] I suppose I ought to pack a few things first?
HILDA.
I wouldn't mind about that if I were you. I'd go down to the ship just
as I was, slip on board without being noticed, and hide until I was
well outside the fiord and began to feel the _real_ sea heaving under
me!
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Nervously._] Shall I like that?
HILDA.
Of course you will. It's your native element, you know. You always
said so. Before you've been on it half an hour you'll wish you were
overboard, you'll like the sea so!
MRS. WANGEL.
[_Fired by this vicarious enthusiasm._] I shall, I know I shall. _He_
will be there too! And he's so frightfully alluring. I must go at once.
[_Exit hurriedly by the garden gate._
HILDA.
[_Giggling joyously._] Caught, by Jove! My fish caught! She'll go off
with her second mate on the English steamer, and never come back any
more. What a triumph for my bait!
[_Picks up fishing tackle, and exit into the house
in high good humour._