ERIC and THYRA are seated by the wine-press.
ERIC. I think it's awfully dull.
THYRA. I think grandmother is nasty.
ERIC. You mustn't talk like that.
THYRA. No, perhaps not, but she is nasty.
ERIC. You mustn't, Thyra, for then the little boy won't come and play with us again.
THYRA. Then I won't say it again. I only wish it wasn't so dark.
ERIC. Don't you remember, Thyra, that the boy said we shouldn't complain——
THYRA. Then I won't do it any more—[The spot of sunlight appears on the ground] Oh, look at the sun-spot!
[She jumps up and places her foot on the light.