Hedvig. Oh, but my mother, mayn’t I read a little longer? Just a little bit?
Gina. No, no; you must put the book away now. Your father doesn’t like it. He never reads himself of an evening.
Hedvig (shutting the door). No, father doesn’t bother much about reading.
Gina (putting down her work and taking up a pencil and small note book from the table). Can you remember how much the butter came to to-day?
Hedvig. One krone and sixty-five ore.
Gina. That’s right. (Entering it.) It’s awful the amount of butter we get through here. And then there was the smoked sausage and cheese. Let me see—(writing) and then there was the ham—h’m! (Reckoning it up.) Yes, it makes just——
Hedvig. And then there’s the beer.
Gina. Yes, of course. (Writing.) It does run up—but it can’t be helped.
Hedvig. But then we didn’t want a hot dinner, as father was out.
Gina. No, luckily. And then besides I took eight crowns, fifty ore for the photographs.