Hedda (shrinking back).  Ugh, let me go, do! (Looking at Aunt JULIE’S hat.) TESMAN, you must really tell the housemaid not to leave her old hat about on the drawing-room chairs.  Oh, is it your hat?  Sorry I spoke, I’m sure!

Aunt J. (annoyed).  Good gracious, little Mrs. HEDDA; my nice new hat that I bought to go out walking with you in!

George (patting her on the back).  Yes, HEDDA, she did, and the parasol too!  Fancy, Aunt JULIE always positively thinks of everything, eh?

Hedda (coldly).  You hold your tongue.  Catch me going out walking with your aunt!  One doesn’t do such things.

George (beaming).  Isn’t she a charming woman?  Such fascinating manners!  My goodness, eh?  Fancy that!

Aunt J. Ah, dear GEORGE, you ought indeed to be happy—­but (brings out a flat package wrapped in newspaper) look here, my dear boy!

George (opens it).  What? my dear old morning shoes! my slippers! (Breaks down.) This is positively too touching, HEDDA, eh?  Do you remember how badly I wanted them all the honeymoon?  Come and just have a look at them—­you may!

Hedda. Bother your old slippers and your old aunt too! (Aunt JULIE goes out annoyed, followed by GEORGE, still thanking her warmly for the slippers; HEDDA yawns; GEORGE comes back and places his old slippers reverently on the table.) Why, here comes Mrs. ELVSTED—­another early caller!  She had irritating hair, and went about making a sensation with it—­an old flame of yours, I’ve heard.

Enter Mrs. ELVSTED; she is pretty and gentle, with copious wavy white-gold hair and round prominent eyes, and the manner of a frightened rabbit.

Mrs. E. (nervous).  Oh, please, I’m so perfectly in despair.  EJLERT LOeVBORG, you know, who was our Tutor; he’s written such a large new book.  I inspired him.  Oh, I know I don’t look like it—­but I did—­he told me so.  And, good gracious, now he’s in this dangerous wicked town all alone, and he’s a reformed character, and I’m so frightened about him; so, as the wife of a Sheriff twenty years older than me, I came up to look after Mr. LOeVBORG.  Do ask him here—­then I can meet him.  You will?  How perfectly lovely of you!  My husband’s so fond of him!

Hedda. GEORGE, go and write an invitation at once; do you hear? (GEORGE looks around for his slippers, takes them up and goes out.) Now we can talk, my little THEA.  Do you remember how I used to pull your hair when we met on the stairs, and say I would scorch it off?  Seeing people with copious hair always does irritate me.