BERTEL. Patience, patience, young colt, plenty of time, mother said something else.
STEEN. What?
BERTEL. (His eye on the shelf above the fire) That I should find some warm porridge for my pains.
HOLGER. (Springing to his feet) Why, of course, there is porridge! (He goes to the shelf) Nice and warm it is! All ready for supper. (He hands the first bowl to BERTEL, STEEN capers nimbly across the intervening space and seats himself on the side of the hearth, facing BERTEL, his back to the audience)
STEEN. Supper! How could we forget supper?—Give me a big bowlful, Holger.
HOLGER. (Handing STEEN his porridge) There isn't a big bowlful here.
STEEN. (Taking the bowl and hugging it) Nice kind good supper, umh! (Begins to eat eagerly)
HOLGER. (Suddenly looking toward the door) Listen!
BERTEL. To what?
HOLGER. (Awed, hesitant) Someone—sobbing—at the door! (He goes to it, the others watching him startled, he opens the door, finds nothing, closes it and comes back) Nothing there!