MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN.
(Condensed and Revised Version by Mr. P.'s Own Harmless Ibsenite.)
No. I.—ROSMERSHÖLM.
ACT I.
Sitting-room at Rosmershölm, with a stove, flower-stand, windows, ancient and modern ancestors, doors, and everything handsome about it, REBECCA WEST is sitting knitting a large antimacassar which is nearly finished. Now and then she looks out of a window, and smiles and nods expectantly to someone outside. Madam HELSETH is laying the table for supper.
Rebecca (folding up her work slowly). But tell me precisely, what about this White Horse? [Smiling quietly.
Madam Helseth. Lord forgive you, Miss!—(fetching cruet-stand, and placing it on table)—but you're making fun of me!
Rebecca (gravely). No, indeed. Nobody makes fun at Rosmershölm. Mr. ROSMER would not understand it. (Shutting window.) Ah, here is Rector KROLL. (Opening door.) You will stay to supper, will you not, Rector, and I will tell them to give us some little extra dish.