ENGSTRAND is standing close to the garden door. His left leg is slightly deformed, and he wears a boot with a clump of wood under the sole. REGINA, with an empty garden-syringe in her hand, is trying to prevent his coming in.) 

 Regina (below her breath). What is it you want? Stay where you are. The rain is dripping off you. 

 Engstrand. God's good rain, my girl. 

 Regina. The Devil's own rain, that's what it is! 

 Engstrand. Lord, how you talk, Regina. (Takes a few limping steps forward.) What I wanted to tell you was this— 

 Regina. Don't clump about like that, stupid! The young master is lying asleep upstairs. 

 Engstrand. Asleep still? In the middle of the day? 

 Regina. Well, it's no business of yours. 

 Engstrand. I was out on a spree last night— 

 Regina. I don't doubt it. 

 Engstrand. Yes, we are poor weak mortals, my girl— 

 Regina. We are indeed. 

 Engstrand. —and the temptations of the world are manifold, you know—but, for all that, here I was at my work at half-past five this morning. 

 Regina. Yes, yes, but make yourself scarce now. I am not going to stand here as if I had a rendezvous with you. 

 Engstrand. As if you had a what? 

 Regina. I am not going to have anyone find you here; so now you know, and you can go. 

 Engstrand (coming a few steps nearer). Not a bit of it! Not before we have had a little chat. This afternoon I shall have finished my job down at the school house, and I shall be off home to town by tonight's boat. 

 Regina (mutters). Pleasant journey to you! 

 Engstrand. Thanks, my girl. Tomorrow is the opening of the Orphanage, and I expect there will be a fine kick-up here and 

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