Signe. Father!

Tjaelde. Well, this is no time for tomfoolery of that sort! You must all do the honours of the house to-day. Tell Valborg--

Signe. Tell her yourself, please! You know Valborg only does just what she likes.

Tjaelde. Don't talk such rubbish! This is an important moment--and you will all do as _I_ say! Tell Valborg that she is to make herself look nice and come to me here. And you do the same. (She goes.) Signe!

Signe (stopping). Yes?

Tjaelde. We must ask five or six more people to dinner. You must send word to Mr. Finne that we shall dine punctually at three o'clock, instead of four. Mr. Lind has to go away again by the next boat, at five o'clock. Do you understand?

Signe. But has mother enough in the house for so many?

Tjaelde. It is not a mere question of there being enough--it must be a very good dinner. I expect my larder to be kept thoroughly well stocked all through the summer. How often am I to repeat that?

Signe (trying to repress her fears). But mother is feeling so ill to-day--

Tjaelde. Oh! don't begin about that everlasting "feeling ill." There is no time to-day to feel ill. Now, be quick! (SIGNE goes out by the farther door. TJAELDE turns to HAMAR.) Get a pen and ink and some paper!

We must draw up a list of guests, at once!

Hamar (looking about). There is none here.

Tjaelde (impatiently). Fetch some, then! (HAMAR goes into the next room.

TJAELDE, after a long sigh of relief, reads a telegram he has in his hand. His hand trembles as he reads it slowly, repeating some pa.s.sages twice.) "Letter received just as starting. Before taking charge of affairs, must have interview. Coming to-day earliest boat, return five o'clock. Have clear statement ready. Lind." I can hardly read it--but it is true! Yes, if I can only work this properly all doors will be open to me! (To HAMAR, who has come back.) Ah, there you are! It would take too long to write invitations. We will just draw up a list of names and one of my clerks shall run round to them all. Now then! (Dictates.) The Vicar--Oh, by the way, what is the champagne like?

Hamar. Do you mean the new lot?

Tjaelde. Yes.

Hamar. The Vicar praised it highly.

Tjaelde. Good. Well, then--

Hamar (writing). The Vicar.

Tjzlde. Mr. Ring.

Hamar. Mr. Ring.

Tjaelde. And--and--

Hamar. Mr. Holst?

Tjaelde. No, not Holst. (HAMAR appears greatly astonished. TJAELDE says to himself:) I can show him now that I have no need of him! (Suddenly, to HAMAR.) Mr. Holm. (To himself.) Holst's enemy!

Hamar. Mr. Holm.

Tjaelde (to himself). Although Holm is a boor. Still, it will annoy Holst. (Aloud.) The Chief Constable.

Hamar. The Chief--

Tjaelde. No, strike out the Chief Constable.

Hamar. Chief Constable struck out.

Tjaelde. Have we got the Vicar down?

Hamar. He is number one on the list.

Tjaelde. Of course, yes.

Hamar. What about the Magistrate?

Tjaelde. No, he lives too far off. Besides, unless he is the guest of honour and can talk shop all the time--. No! But, let me see. Mr.

Knutzon--Knutzon with a "z."

Hamar. Knutzon with a "z."

Tjaelde. Oh!--and--Knudsen, too! Knudsen with an "s."

Hamar. Knudsen with an "s."

Tjaelde. How many have we got?

Hamar. The Vicar, Ring, Holm, the Chief--oh, no, the Chief Constable was struck out; Knutzon with a "z," Knudsen with an "s "--that is one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tjaelde. And Finne, you, and I make nine. We must have twelve.

Hamar. What about some ladies?

Tjaelde. No; ladies are out of place at a business dinner. They may do the honours afterwards, when we have got to the cigarette stage. But whom shall we--?

Hamar. That new lawyer fellow? He's a smart chap--I can't remember his name?

Tjaelde. No, he always wants to be speechifying wherever he goes.--Ah, Mr. Pram, the custom-house officer!

Hamar. That man? He always gets drunk!

Tjaelde. Yes, but he doesn't get noisy with it. He does no harm--quite the contrary! Yes, put down Pram.

Hamar. Mr. Pram.

Tjaelde. It is a very difficult task, in such a small town, when you want to get a good set of people together. Ah!--Falbe! I forgot him. He is very neat, and no opinions.

Hamar. Neat in his dress, do you mean?

Tjaelde. Yes, in his dress too-but I meant it more generally. Now, for the twelfth--Morten Schultz?