Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 8).djvu/266

 Gina.

He's not poking away at the fire, is he? [Waits a moment.] Hedvig, go and see what he's about. [Ekdal comes in again with a small jug of steaming hot water.

Hedvig.

Have you been getting some hot water, grandfather?

Ekdal.

Yes, hot water. Want it for something. Want to write, and the ink has got as thick as porridge.—h'm.

Gina.

But you'd best have your supper, first, grandfather. It's laid in there.

Ekdal.

Can't be bothered with supper, Gina. Very busy, I tell you. No one's to come to my room. No one—h'm.

[He goes into his room; Gina and Hedvig look at each other.

Gina.

[Softly.] Can you imagine where he's got money from?

Hedvig.

From Gråberg, perhaps.

Gina.

Not a bit of it. Gråberg always sends the money to me.

Hedvig.

Then he must have got a bottle on credit somewhere.