EYOLF. [Softly, taking hold of ASTA's dress.] Auntie! That must surely be her! THE RAT-WIFE. [Curtseying at the door.] I humbly beg pardon--but are your worships troubled with any gnawing things in the house? ALLMERS. Here? No, I don't think so. THE RAT-WIFE. For it would be such a pleasure to me to rid your worships' house of them. RITA. Yes, yes; we understand. But we have nothing of the sort here. THE RAT-WIFE. That's very unlucky, that is; for I just happened to be on my rounds now, and goodness knows when I may be in these parts again.--Oh, how tired I am! ALLMERS. [Pointing to a chair.] Yes, you look tired. THE RAT-WIFE. I know one ought never to get tired of doing good to the poor little things that are hated and persecuted so cruelly. But it takes your strength out of you, it does. RITA. Won't you sit down and rest a little? THE RAT-WIFE. I thank your ladyship with all my heart. [Seats herself on a chair between the door and the sofa.] I have been out all night at my work. ALLMERS. Have you indeed? THE RAT-WIFE. Yes, over on the islands. [With a chuckling laugh.] The people sent for me, I can assure you. They didn't like it a bit; but there was nothing else to be done. They had to put a good face on it, and bite the sour apple. [Looks at EYOLF, and nods.] The sour apple, little master, the sour apple. EYOLF. [Involuntarily, a little timidly.] Why did they have to--? THE RAT-WIFE. What? EYOLF. To bite it? THE RAT-WIFE. Why, because they couldn't keep body and soul together on account of the rats and all the little rat-children, you see, young master. RITA. Ugh! Poor people! Have they so many of them?