Mrs. Tjaelde. And yet it seemed hard enough for us to give it up.
Tjaelde. Yes, yes—oh, yes. I can tell you, I was thinking of that last night. If God had given me what I begged for then, what state should we have been in now? I was thinking of that, too.
Mrs. Tjaelde. It is the fact of the estate being at last wound up that has brought all these thoughts into your mind, dear?
Tjaelde. Yes.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Then I must confess that I, too, have scarcely been able to think of anything else since yesterday, when Sannaes went into town to settle it up. This a red-letter day! Signe is wrestling with a little banquet for us; we shall see what an artist she has become! Here she is!
Tjaelde. I think I will just go and look over Valborg's accounts. (Goes to the window. SIGNE comes out of the house, wearing a cook's apron and carrying a basin.)
Signe. Mother, you must taste my soup! (Offers her a spoonful.)
Mrs. Tjaelde. Clever girl! (Tastes the soup.) Perhaps it would stand a little—. No, it is very good as it is. You are clever!
Signe. Am I not! Will Sannaes be back soon?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Your father says we may expect him any moment.