This page needs to be proofread.
Rita.
Come in.
[The Rat-Wife comes softly and noiselessly in by the door on the right. She is a thin little shrunken figure, old and grey-haired, with keen, piercing eyes, dressed in an old-fashioned flowered gown, with a black hood and cloak. She has in her hand a large red umbrella, and carries a black bag by a loop over her arm.
Eyolf.
[Softly, taking hold of Asta's dress.] Auntie! That must surely be her!
The Rat-Wife.
[Curtseying at the door.] I humbly beg pardon—but are your worships troubled with any gnawing things in the house?
Allmers.
Here? No, I don't think so.
The Rat-Wife.
For it would be such a pleasure to me to rid your worships' house of them.
Rita.
Yes, yes; we understand. But we have nothing of the sort here.
