Jensen. For he’s been a great rake in his time.
Pettersen. Maybe.
Jensen. It’s in honor of his son that he’s giving this dinner, they say.
Pettersen. Yes, his son came home yesterday.
Jensen. I never knew before that Mr. Werle had a son.
Pettersen. Oh yes, he has a son. But he’s always stopped up there at the Hojdal Works. He’s not been in town all the years I’ve been in service here.
Another Waiter (at the door of the other room). I say, Pettersen, here’s an old fellow who——
Pettersen (muttering). Who the devil’s here now?
Old Ekdal enters the room from the right. He wears a threadbare cloak with a stand-up collar, woollen mittens; in his hands a stick and a fur cap, under his arm a parcel done up in cardboard. He has a reddish-brown, dirty wig, and a small mustache.
Pettersen (going towards him). Good gracious! What do you want here?