"Yes; in the country! I am beginning to long for it already!" Mrs. Hanka herself is animated. "You must get the garden and the grove fixed up. It will be fine." And Tidemand, who already has arranged to have the country-house put in order, although it is not April yet, is delighted because of his wife's sudden interest. His sombre eyes brighten and he presses her arm. "I want you to know, Hanka, I am very happy to-day," he exclaims. "Everything will be all right soon, I am sure." "Are you--What will be all right, by the way?" "Oh, nothing," he says quickly. He turns the subject, looks down, and continues: "Business is booming; I have given Fürst orders to buy!" Fool that he was! There he had once more made a mistake and bothered his wife with his shop talk. But Mrs. Hanka was good enough to overlook it; nobody could have answered more patiently and sweetly than did she: "I am very glad to hear it!" These gentle words embolden him; he is grateful and wants to show it as best he can; he smiles with dewy eyes and says in a low voice: "I should like to give you a little present if you care--a sort of souvenir of this occasion. If there is anything you would like--" Mrs. Hanka glances at him. "No, my dear. What are you thinking of? Though, perhaps--you might let me have a couple of hundred crowns. Thanks, very much!" Suddenly she spies the old rubber shoe with nails and junk, and she cries, full of curiosity: "Whatever is this?" She lets go her husband's arm and brings the rubber over to the table. "Whatever have you got here, Milde?" She rummages in the rubbish with her white fingers, calls Irgens over, finds one strange thing after another, and asks questions concerning them. "Will somebody please tell me what this is good for?" She has fished out an umbrella-handle which she throws aside at once; then a lock of hair enclosed in paper. "Look--a lock of somebody's hair! Come and see!" Milde joined her. "Leave that alone!" he said and took his cigar out of his mouth. "However did that get in there? Did you ever--hair from my last love, so to speak!" This was sufficient to make everybody laugh. The Journalist shouted: "But have you seen Milde's collection of corsets? Out with the corsets, Milde!" And Milde did not refuse; he went into one of the side rooms and brought forth his package. There were both white and brown ones; the white ones were a little grey, and Mrs. Paulsberg asked in surprise: "But--have they been used?" "Of course; why do you think Milde collects them? Where would be their sentimental value otherwise?" And the Journalist laughed heartily, happy to be able to twist even this word around. But the corpulent Milde wrapped his corsets together and said: "This is a little specialty of mine, a talent--But what the dickens are you all gaping at? It is my own corsets; I have used them myself--don't you understand? I used them when I began to grow stout; I laced and thought it would help. But it helped like fun!"