Mrs. Tjaelde (sitting down at the table). One could put up with the cooking. It's the having always to think of something fresh! Hamar. Why don't you get a chef from one of the hotels, as I have so often advised you? Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, we have tried that, but he was more trouble than it was worth. Hamar. Yes, because he had no invention. Get a French chef! Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, and have to be always beside him to interpret!--But I am no nearer this dinner. And lately I have been finding such difficulty in getting about. Hamar. I have never in my life heard so much talk about meals as I have in this house. Mrs. Tjaelde. You see, you have never been in a prosperous business-man's house before. Our friends are mostly business-men, of course--and most of them have no greater pleasures than those of the table. Signe. That's true. Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you wearing _that_ dress to-day? Signe. Yes. Mrs. Tjaelde. You have worn a different one every day. Signe. Well, if Hamar is tired of both the blue one and the grey one, what can I do? Hamar. And I don't like this one any better than the others. Signe. Indeed!--Then I really think you had better order me one yourself. Hamar. Come to town with me, and I will! Signe. Yes, mother--Hamar and I have made up our minds that we must go back to town. [Note: There would be nothing contrary to Norwegian ideas of propriety in Signe's proposal. In Norway an engaged couple could travel alone; and the fiancee would go to stay in the house of her future husband's relations.] Mrs. Tjaelde. But you were there only a fortnight ago! Hamar. And it is exactly a fortnight too long since we were there! Mrs. Tjaelde. (thoughtfully). Now, what _can_ I order for dinner? (VALBORG comes into sight on the verandah.) Signe (turning round and seeing VALBORG). Enter Her Highness! Hamar (turning round). Carrying a bouquet! Oho! I have seen it before! Signe. Have you? Did _you_ give it her? Hamar. No; I was coming through the garden--and saw it on the table in Valborg's summerhouse. Is it your birthday, Valborg? Valborg. No. Hamar. I thought not. Perhaps there is some other festivity to-day? Valborg. No. (SIGNE suddenly bursts out laughing.) Hamar. Why do you laugh? Signe. Because I understand! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Hamar. What do you understand? Signe. Whose hands it is that have decked the altar! Ha, ha, ha! Hamar. I suppose you think they were mine? Signe. No, they were redder hands than yours! Ha, ha, ha, ha! (VALBORG throws the bouquet down.) Oh, dear me, it doesn't do to laugh so much in this heat. But it is delightful! To think he should have hit upon that idea! Ha, ha, ha! Hamar (laughing). Do you mean--? Signe (laughing). Yes! You must know that Valborg-- Valborg. Signe! Signe.--who has sent so many distinguished suitors about their business, cannot escape from the attentions of a certain red pair of hands--ha, ha, ha, ha! Hamar. Do you mean Sannaes?