Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 11).djvu/49



[Patting him on the head.] So you know that, do you?

[Cautiously.] Then perhaps it may be true, after all, that she is a were-wolf at night. Do you believe that, Papa?

Oh, no; I don't believe it. Now you ought to go and play a little in the garden.

Should I not take some books with me?

No, no books after this. You had better go down to the beach to the other boys.

[Shyly.] No, Papa, I won't go down to the boys to-day.

Why not?

Oh, because I have these clothes on.

[Knitting his brows.] Do you mean that they make fun of—of your pretty clothes?

[Evasively.] No, they daren't—for then I would thrash them.