indifferent to me.       

         ENGSTRAND. Give a thought to my Sailors' Home, your Reverence.       

         MANDERS. Upon my word, that is not a bad suggestion. That must be considered.       

         ENGSTRAND. Oh, devil take considering—Lord forgive me!       

         MANDERS. [With a sigh.] And unfortunately I cannot tell how long I shall be able to retain control of these things—whether public opinion may not compel me to retire. It entirely depends upon the result of the official inquiry into the fire—       

         MRS. ALVING. What are you talking about?       

         MANDERS. And the result can by no means be foretold.       

         ENGSTRAND. [Comes close to him.] Ay, but it can though. For here stands old Jacob Engstrand.       

         MANDERS. Well well, but—?       

         ENGSTRAND. [More softy.] And Jacob Engstrand isn't the man to desert a noble benefactor in the hour of need, as the saying goes.       

         MANDERS. Yes, but my good fellow—how—?       

         ENGSTRAND. Jacob Engstrand may be likened to a sort of a guardian angel, he may, your Reverence.       

         MANDERS. No, no; I really cannot accept that.       

         ENGSTRAND. Oh, that'll be the way of it, all the same. I know a man as has taken others' sins upon himself before now, I do.       

         MANDERS. Jacob! [Wrings his hand.] Yours is a rare nature. Well, you shall be helped with your Sailors' Home. That you may rely upon.         [ENGSTRAND tries to thank him, but cannot for emotion.]       

         MANDERS. [Hangs his travelling-bag over his shoulder.] And now let us set out. We two will go together.       

         ENGSTRAND. [At the dining-room door, softly to REGINA.] You come along too, my lass. You shall live as snug as the yolk in an egg.       

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