Oswald. Then, Mother, if Sigurd and I made some good cookies, could we take them down to those poor children?
Olga. If only we knew just where we could find them, Oswald. It is hard sometimes to know where the lonely people are, and the hungry ones.
Liljekrona. And when they pass so close as to touch our sleeve on the way we do not see them, we do not stop them, but let them plod their path alone.
Olga. (Stung by Liljekrona’s remark) It is a good thought, Oswald. Take them out to Halla now, so she can bake them before to-morrow.
Sigurd. I can’t make a Christ-Child, Mother. (With a sob.) It doesn’t look like anything.
Oswald. (With a laugh) It looks like a star.
Olga. (Rising) Let me see, dear. I think Mother would know what that was. Take it to Halla and she will bake it. Then wash those sticky hands. It is time to light the tree. (Exeunt Oswald and Sigurd. Takes violin from the cabinet and gives it to Liljekrona.) You will play for us to dance?—one of the old polkas, Liljekrona.
Liljekrona. (Pettishly) My E string has snapped.
Olga. Well, put on a new one. Quick, before the children come back.
(Liljekrona goes slowly upstairs with his violin. Olga pulls out the tree from the corner and starts to light the candles with a taper. Enter Halla with a punch bowl and the glasses, which she places on the long table. Oswald and Sigurd follow, each carrying a plate of cakes.)