Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 8).djvu/261

 Hedvig. [Does not hear.]

Gina.

[Repeats more loudly.] Hedvig!

Hedvig. [Takes away her hands and looks up.] Yes, mother?

Gina.

Hedvig dear, you mustn't sit reading any longer now.

Hedvig.

Oh mother, mayn't I read a little more? Just a little bit?

Gina.

No no, you must put away your book now. Father doesn't like it; he never reads hisself in the evening.

Hedvig.

[Shuts the book.] No, father doesn't care much about reading.

Gina.

[Puts aside her sewing and takes up a lead pencil and a little account-book from the table.] Can you remember how much we paid for the butter to-day?

Hedvig. It was one crown sixty-five.

Gina.

That's right. [Puts it down.] It's terrible what a lot of butter we get through in this house. Then there was the smoked sausage, and the cheese—let me see—[Writes]—and the ham—[Adds up.] Yes, that makes just