Bolette. I certainly do.

Hilde. He went to consult father this afternoon. I should like to
know what father thinks about him.

Bolette. Father told me it was a thickening of the lungs, or
something of the sort. He won't live to be old, father says.

Hilde. No! Did he say it? Fancy--that's exactly what I thought.

Bolette. For heaven's sake don't show it!

Hilde. How can you imagine such a thing? (In an undertone.) Look,
here comes Hans crawling up. Don't you think you can see by the
look of him that he's called Hans?

Bolette (whispering). Now do behave! You'd better!

(LYNGSTRAND comes in from the right, a parasol in his hand.)

Lyngstrand. I must beg the young ladies to excuse me for not
getting along as quickly as they did.

Hilde. Have you got a parasol too, now?

Lyngstrand. It's your mother's. She said I was to use it as a stick.
I hadn't mine with me.

Bolette. Are they down there still--father and the others?