what must he do but screw down the damper till the whole room is full of smoke. Ugh! There was a smell fit to
Hialmar. Well, really!
Gina.
But that's not the worst of it; for then he thinks he'll put out the fire, and goes and empties his water-jug into the stove, and so makes the whole floor one filthy puddle.
Hialmar. How annoying!
Gina.
I've got the porter's wife to clear up after him, pig that he is! But the room won't be fit to live in till the afternoon.
Hialmar. What's he doing with himself in the meantime?
Gina. He said he was going out for a little while.
Hialmar.
I looked in upon him too, for a moment—after you had gone.
Gina. So I heard. You've asked him to lunch.
Hialmar. Just to a little bit of early lunch, you know. It's his first day—we can hardly do less. You've got something in the house, I suppose?
