MRS. WILTON. [Putting the matter lightly aside.] I am quite used to saying both yes and no—on my own account. And you can't possibly think of leaving your aunt the moment she has arrived! For shame, Monsieur Erhart! Would that be behaving like a good son?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Annoyed.] Son?
MRS. WILTON.
Well, adopted son then, Mrs. Borkman.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, you may well add that.
MRS. WILTON. Oh, it seems to me we have often more cause to be grateful to a foster-mother than to our own mother.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Has that been your experience?
MRS. WILTON. I knew very little of my own mother, I am sorry to say. But if I had had a good foster-mother, perhaps I shouldn't have been so— so naughty, as people say I am. [Turning towards ERHART.] Well, then we stop peaceably at home like a good boy, and drink tea with mamma and auntie! [To the ladies.] Good-bye, good-bye Mrs. Borkman! Good-bye Miss Rentheim.
[The ladies bow silently. She goes toward the door.
ERHART.
[Following her.] Shan't I go a little bit of the way with you?
MRS. WILTON. [In the doorway, motioning him back.] You shan't go a step with me. I am quite accustomed to taking my walks alone. [Stops on the threshold, looks at him and nods.] But now beware, Mr. Borkman—I warn you!