[Listening.] There is some one knocking.
Eyolf.
Oh, I’m sure it’s Borgheim!
Rita.
Come in.
[The Rat-Wife comes softly and noiselessly in by the door on the right. She is a thin little shrunken figure, old and grey-haired, with keen, piercing eyes, dressed in an old-fashioned flowered gown, with a black hood and cloak. She has in her hand a large red umbrella, and carries a black bag by a loop over her arm.
Eyolf.
[Softly, taking hold of Asta’s dress.] Auntie! That must surely be her!
The Rat-Wife.
[Curtseying at the door.] I humbly beg pardon—but are your worships troubled with any gnawing things in the house?