looked in at the club, and read an account of a polar expedition. There is something bracing in watching men at war with the elements.
Mrs. Rummel. But it doesn't seem to have agreed with you, Mr. Tönnesen?
Hilmar. No, it didn't agree with me at all. I lay tossing all night half asleep, and dreamt I was being chased by a horrible walrus.
Olaf. [Who has come up the garden steps.] Have you been chased by a walrus, Uncle?
Hilmar. I dreamt it, little stupid! Do you still go on playing with that ridiculous bow? Why don't you get hold of a proper gun?
Olaf. Oh, I should love to, but
Hilmar. There would be some sense in a gun; the very act of pulling the trigger braces your nerves.
Olaf. And then I could shoot bears, Uncle. But father won't let me.
Mrs. Bernick. You really must not put such ideas into his head, Hilmar.
Hilmar. Ha—there we have the rising generation nowadays! Goodness knows there's plenty of talk
