HADDA PADDA. No, you bring your berries back to me.
SIGGA [turning the bottle over in her palm]. Do you want some?
HADDA PADDA [staying her off]. No, no—not now.
DODDI. Oh, Hadda! I'll gather the bluest berries for you.
LITTLE SKULI. When I come back I'll bring you berries and flowers too.
MAGGA. You won't wait for us, Hadda Padda.
HADDA PADDA [ nodding assent—hand under cheek ]. No—no.
ALL THE CHILDREN. Aren't you going to wait for us?
HADDA PADDA [ with a start, recovering herself ]. Wait for you, yes—yes, of course—do you think I would run away from you? I will wait here till you come back. [ The children go off to the right. Hadda remains seated for a moment, rises absent-mindedly, walks to and fro thoughtfully, sometimes stumbling. Then she sits down again, hiding her face in her hands. ]
AN HERBORIST [ enters from the right. On her shoulder she is carrying a canvas bag, half filled with herbs. She wears a knitted shawl and a parti-colored kerchief on her head. In her hand, she holds a large knife in a leather sheath ]. Good evening, young lady!