(A little before the song ends, Hadda Padda enters from the left, accompanied by the children.  She wears a light summer dress with a chiffon scarf thrown over her shoulders.  The children have come prepared to gather berries.  One has a wooden box, one a coloured glass bottle half filled with berries, etc.  They stop to listen until the song is finished.)

MAGGA.  Who was singing?

HADDA PADDA.  The summer guests down at the falls.—­Well, children, hurry now and gather your berries.  We’ll be going home soon. [Pointing to the right.] See that hollow?  There must be lots of berries in there. [Sits down on a stone.]

SIGGA.  Aren’t you coming along with us, Hadda Padda?

HADDA PADDA.  No, you bring your berries back to me.

SIGGA [turning the bottle over in her palm].  Do you want some?

HADDA PADDA [staying her off].  No, no—­not now.

DODDI.  Oh, Hadda!  I’ll gather the bluest berries for you.

LITTLE SKULI.  When I come back I’ll bring you berries and flowers too.

MAGGA.  You won’t wait for us, Hadda Padda.

HADDA PADDA [nodding assent—­hand under cheek].  No—­no.

ALL THE CHILDREN.  Aren’t you going to wait for us?

HADDA PADDA [with a start, recovering herself].  Wait for you, yes—­yes, of course—­do you think I would run away from you?  I will wait here till you come back. [The children go off to the right.  Hadda remains seated for a moment, rises absent-mindedly, walks to and fro thoughtfully, sometimes stumbling.  Then she sits down again, hiding her face in her hands.]

AN HERBORIST [enters from the right.  On her shoulder she is carrying a canvas bag, half filled with herbs.  She wears a knitted shawl and a parti-colored kerchief on her head.  In her hand, she holds a large knife in a leather sheath].  Good evening, young lady!

HADDA PADDA [startled].  Good evening, Arngerd!

HERBORIST [putting the bag aside].  I seemed to recognise one of the sisters.  It is you they call Hadda Padda.

HADDA PADDA.  I came berrying with the children.

HERBORIST. I saw them down in the hollow.—­It is lucky to visit the falls to-night.—­I heard the song.—­What a beautiful day! [Sits down]—­Just look at the evening glow on that rock! [Smiles.] Its furrows seem like ruddy smiling lips!

HADDA PADDA [looking up].  Like bleeding wounds.

HERBORIST. Is the young lady in low spirits?

HADDA PADDA [keeps silent].

HERBORIST [looking at the slope].  What a host of blessed flowers!  I’ll soon get my bag filled here.  There are some of the right kind among them I’m sure.

HADDA PADDA.  That is a pretty bag you have.

HERBORIST. I thought it an insult to the flowers to put them in a coarse sack, so I took my pillow case.