Some one is knocking at the door.
[Loudly.] Come in.
HILDA WANGEL enters by the hall door. She is of middle height,
supple, and delicately built. Somewhat sunburnt. Dressed in
a tourist costume, with skirt caught up for walking, a sailor's
collar open at the throat, and a small sailor hat on her head.
Knapsack on back, plaid in strap, and alpenstock.
[Goes straight up to SOLNESS, her eyes sparkling with happiness.] Good evening!
[Looks doubtfully at her.] Good evening—
[Laughs.] I almost believe you don't recognise me!
No—I must admit that—just for the moment—
[Approaching.] But I recognise you, my dear young lady—
[Pleased.] Oh, is it you that—
Of course it is. [To SOLNESS.] We met at one of the mountain stations this summer. [To HILDA.] What became of the other ladies?