Boletta.
Yes, that’s true. But she is not at all fitted for all that mother knew so well how to do. There are so many things she doesn’t see—or perhaps will not see—or trouble herself about. I don’t know which way to put it.
Arnholm.
H’m,—I think I understand what you mean?
Boletta.
Poor father,—he is weak in certain ways. I daresay you have noticed that yourself. You see he hasn’t enough work to fill up his whole time; and then she is quite incapable of being any support to him.—That is partly his own fault, however.
Arnholm.
How so?
Boletta.
Oh, father always likes to see cheerful faces around him; there must be sunshine and contentment in the house, he says. So I am afraid he often lets her have medicine that does her no good in the long run.