ALLMERS. [Softly, with choking voice.] Oh, Rita--how it wrings my
heart!

RITA. [Soothingly, rising.] There, there, there!

ALLMERS. [Threateningly.] But these rascals shall soon find out who
is the master down at the beach!

ASTA. [Listening.] There is some one knocking.

EYOLF. Oh, I'm sure it's Borgheim!

RITA. Come in.

[The RAT-WIFE comes softly and noiselessly in by the door on the
right. She is a thin little shrunken figure, old and grey-haired,
with keen, piercing eyes, dressed in an old-fashioned flowered
gown, with a black hood and cloak. She has in her hand a large red
umbrella, and carries a black bag by a loop over her arm.]

EYOLF. [Softly, taking hold of ASTA's dress.] Auntie! That must
surely be her!

THE RAT-WIFE. [Curtseying at the door.] I humbly beg pardon--but
are your worships troubled with any gnawing things in the house?

ALLMERS. Here? No, I don't think so.

THE RAT-WIFE. For it would be such a pleasure to me to rid your