_Rebecca_ (_folding up her work slowly_). But tell me precisely, what
about this White Horse? [_Smiling quietly._

_Madam Helseth_. Lord forgive you, Miss!--(_fetching cruet-stand, and
placing it on table_)--but you're making fun of me!

_Rebecca_ (_gravely_). No, indeed. Nobody makes fun at Rosmershölm.
Mr. ROSMER would not understand it. (_Shutting window._) Ah, here is
Rector KROLL. (_Opening door_.) You will stay to supper, will you not,
Rector, and I will tell them to give us some little extra dish.

_Kroll_ (_hanging up his hat in the hall_). Many thanks. (_Wipes his
boots._) May I come in? (_Comes in, puts down his stick, sits down,
and looks about him._) And how do you and ROSMER get on together, eh?

_Reb._ Ever since your sister, BEATA, went mad and jumped into the
mill-race, we have been as happy as two little birds together. (_After
a pause, sitting down in arm-chair._) So you don't really mind my
living here all alone with ROSMER? We were afraid you might, perhaps.

_Kroll_. Why, how on earth--on the contrary, I shouldn't object at all
if you--(_looks at her meaningly_)--h'm!

_Reb._ (_interrupting, gravely_). For shame, Rector; how can you make
such jokes!

_Kroll_ (_as if surprised_). Jokes? We do not joke in these parts--but
here is ROSMER.

[Illustration: "Taking off his gloves meaningly."]