Selma.
[Goes towards the piano at the back, left.] Mr. Stensgård, you must join us; we are going to have a game of forfeits.
Stensgård.
With pleasure; I am just in the mood.
[Follows her towards the back, makes arrangements with her, places chairs, etc. etc.
Erik Bratsberg.
[In an undertone.] What the deuce is this my father is saying, Mr. Heire? What speech has Mr. Stensgård been making yesterday?
Heire.
Hee-hee! Don't you know about it?
Erik.
No; we townspeople had our dinner and ball at the Club. My father declares Mr. Stensgård has entirely broken with the Stonelee gang—that he was frightfully rude to Monsen
Heire.
To Monsen! No, you must have misunderstood him, my dear sir.
Erik.
Well, there were a whole lot of people about, so that I couldn't quite follow what he said; but I certainly heard
Heire.
Wait till to-morrow I say no more. You'll have the whole story with your coffee, in Aslaksen's paper. [They separate.
