MRS. ALVING. Even a painter needs a little rest now and then.
MANDERS. No doubt, no doubt. And meanwhile he can be preparing himself and mustering his forces for some great work.
OSWALD. Yes.—Mother, will dinner soon be ready?
MRS. ALVING. In less than half an hour. He has a capital appetite, thank God.
MANDERS. And a taste for tobacco, too.
OSWALD. I found my father's pipe in my room—
MANDERS. Aha—then that accounts for it!
MRS. ALVING. For what?
MANDERS. When Oswald appeared there, in the doorway, with the pipe in his mouth, I could have sworn I saw his father, large as life.
OSWALD. No, really?