Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 10).djvu/74

 Hedda.

Oh yes, but there is. There is a great deal more—I can see that. Sit here—and we'll have a cosy, confidential chat.

[She forces Mrs. Elvsted to sit in the easy-*chair beside the stove, and seats herself on one of the footstools.

Mrs. Elvsted.

[Anxiously, looking at her watch.] But, my dear Mrs. Tesman—I was really on the point of going.

Hedda.

Oh, you can't be in such a hurry.—Well? Now tell me something about your life at home.

Mrs. Elvsted.

Oh, that is just what I care least to speak about.

Hedda.

But to me, dear? Why, weren't we schoolfellows?

Mrs. Elvsted.

Yes, but you were in the class above me. Oh, how dreadfully afraid of you I was then!

Hedda.

Afraid of me?

Mrs. Elvsted.

Yes, dreadfully. For when we met on the stairs you used always to pull my hair.

Hedda.

Did I, really?