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Mrs. Alving. What?

Manders. When Oswald came in at that door with the pipe in his
mouth, I thought for the moment it was his father in the flesh.

Oswald. Really?

Mrs. Alving. How can you say so! Oswald takes after me.

Manders. Yes, but there is an expression about the corners of his
mouth--something about the lips--that reminds me so exactly of
Mr. Alving--especially when he smokes.

Mrs. Alving. I don't think so at all. To my mind, Oswald has much
more of a clergyman's mouth.

Menders. Well, yes--a good many of my colleagues in the church
have a similar expression.

Mrs. Alving. But put your pipe down, my dear boy. I don't allow
any smoking in here.

Oswald (puts down his pipe). All right, I only wanted to try it,
because I smoked it once when I was a child.

Mrs. Alving. You?

Oswald. Yes; it was when I was quite a little chap. And I can
remember going upstairs to father's room one evening when he was
in very good spirits.

Mrs. Alving. Oh, you can't remember anything about those days.

Oswald. Yes, I remember plainly that he took me on his knee and
let me smoke his pipe. "Smoke, my boy," he said, "have a good
smoke, boy!" And I smoked as hard as I could, until I felt I was
turning quite pale and the perspiration was standing in great
drops on my forehead. Then he laughed--such a hearty laugh.

Manders. It was an extremely odd thing to do.

Mrs. Alving. Dear Mr. Manders, Oswald only dreamt it.

Oswald. No indeed, mother, it was no dream. Because--don't you
remember--you came into the room and carried me off to the
nursery, where I was sick, and I saw that you were crying. Did
father often play such tricks?

Manders. In his young days he was full of fun--

Oswald. And, for all that, he did so much with his life--so much
that was good and useful, I mean--short as his life was.

Manders. Yes, my dear Oswald Alving, you have inherited the name
of a man who undoubtedly was both energetic and worthy. Let us
hope it will be a spur to your energies.

Oswald. It ought to be, certainly.

Manders. In any case it was nice of you to come home for the day
that is to honour his memory.

Oswald. I could do no less for my father.

Mrs. Alving. And to let me keep him so long here--that's the
nicest part of what he has done.

Manders. Yes, I hear you are going to spend the winter at home.

Oswald. I am here for an indefinite time, Mr. Manders.--Oh, it's
good to be at home again!

Mrs. Alving (beaming). Yes, isn't it?

Manders (looking sympathetically at him). You went out into the
world very young, my dear Oswald.

Oswald. I did. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't too young.

Mrs. Alving. Not a bit of it. It is the best thing for an active
boy, and especially for an only child. It's a pity when they are
kept at home with their parents and get spoiled.

Manders. That is a very debatable question, Mrs, Alving. A
child's own home is, and always must be, his proper place.

Oswald. There I agree entirely with Mr. Manders.

Manders. Take the case of your own son. Oh yes, we can talk about

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