Bolette. Yes, for father's sake.

Arnholm. But, good heavens! Your stepmother? She is left to him.

Bolette. That's true. But she's not in the least fit to do all
that mother did so well. There is so much she doesn't see, or
that she won't see, or that she doesn't care about. I don't know
which it is.

Arnholm. Um, I think I understand what you mean.

Bolette. Poor father! He is weak in some things. Perhaps you've
noticed that yourself? He hasn't enough occupation, either, to
fill up his time. And then she is so thoroughly incapable of
helping him; however, that's to some extent his own fault.

Arnholm. In what way?

Bolette. Oh! father always likes to see happy faces about him.
There must be sunshine and joy in the house, he says. And so I'm
afraid he often gives her medicine which will do her little good
in the long run.

Arnholm. Do you really think that?

Bolette. Yes; I can't get rid of the thought. She is so odd at
times. (Passionately.) But isn't it unjust that I should have to
stay at home here? Really it's not of any earthly use to father.
Besides, I have a duty towards myself, too, I think.