(WANGEL, in other clothes, comes with HILDE from behind the
house.)

Wangel. Now, then, here I am at your service. And now we shall
enjoy a good glass of something cool.

Ellida. Wait a moment. (She goes into the arbour and fetches the
bouquet.)

Hilde. I say! All those lovely flowers! Where did you get them?

Ellida. From the sculptor, Lyngstrand, my dear Hilde.

Hilde (starts). From Lyngstrand?

Bolette (uneasily). Has Lyngstrand been here again?

Ellida (with a half-smile). Yes. He came here with these. Because
of the birthday, you understand.

Bolette (looks at HILDE). Oh!

Hilde (mutters). The idiot!

Wangel (in painful confusion to ELLIDA). Hm!--yes, well you see-I
must tell you, my dear, good, beloved Ellida--

Ellida (interrupting). Come, girls! Let us go and put my flowers
in the water together with the others. (Goes up to the verandah.)

Bolette (to HILDE). Oh! After all she is good at heart.

Hilde (in a low tone with angry look). Fiddlesticks! She only
does it to take in father.

Wangel (on the verandah, presses ELLIDA'S hand). Thanks-thanks!
My heartfelt thanks for that, dear Ellida.

Ellida (arranging the flowers). Nonsense! Should not I, too, be
in it, and take part in--in mother's birthday?

Arnholm. Hm!

(He goes up to WANGEL, and ELLIDA, BOLETTE, and HILDE remain in
the garden below.)