ENGSTRAND. You wouldn't stop long with me, my girl. No such luck! If you knew how to play your cards, such a fine figure of a girl as you've grown in the last year or two--
ENGSTRAND. You'd soon get hold of some mate--or maybe even a captain--
REGINA. I won't marry any one of that sort. Sailors have no _savoir vivre_.
REGINA. I know what sailors are, I tell you. They're not the sort of people to marry.
ENGSTRAND. Then never mind about marrying them. You can make it pay all the same. [More confidentially.] He--the Englishman--the man with the yacht--he came down with three hundred dollars, he did; and she wasn't a bit handsomer than you.
ENGSTRAND. [Falling back.] Come, come! You're not going to hit me, I hope.
REGINA. Yes, if you begin talking about mother I shall hit you. Get away with you, I say! [Drives him back towards the garden door.] And don't slam the doors. Young Mr. Alving--
ENGSTRAND. He's asleep; I know. You're mightily taken up about young Mr. Alving--[More softly.] Oho! you don't mean to say it's him as--?
REGINA. Be off this minute! You're crazy, I tell you! No, not that way. There comes Pastor Manders. Down the kitchen stairs with you.
ENGSTRAND. [Towards the right.] Yes, yes, I'm going. But just you talk to him as is coming there. He's the man to tell you what a child owes its father. For I am your father all the same, you know. I can prove it from the church register.
[He goes out through the second door to the right, which REGINA has opened, and closes again after him. REGINA glances hastily at herself in the mirror, dusts herself with her pocket handkerchief; and settles her necktie; then she busies herself with the flowers.]
[PASTOR MANDERS, wearing an overcoat, carrying an umbrella, and with a small travelling-bag on a strap over his shoulder, comes through the garden door into the conservatory.]
REGINA. [Turning round, surprised and pleased.] No, really! Good morning, Pastor Manders. Is the steamer in already?
MANDERS. It is just in. [Enters the sitting-room.] Terrible weather we have been having lately.
REGINA. [Follows him.] It's such blessed weather for the country, sir.
MANDERS. No doubt; you are quite right. We townspeople give too little thought to that. [He begins to take off his overcoat.]