We have beer-soup and Aunt Anna to dinner. Now beer-soup is a nasty dish and Aunt Anna is not very nice either.
She has yellow teeth and a little hump and very severe eyes, which are not even both equally severe. She is nearly always scolding us and, when she sees a chance, she pinches us.
The worst of all, however, is that she is constantly setting us a good example, which can easily end by gradually and inevitably driving us to embrace wickedness.
Aunt Anna does not like beer-soup any more than we do. But of course she eats it with a voluptuous expression on her face and looks angrily at my little boy, who does not even make an attempt to behave nicely:
"Why doesn't the little boy eat his delicious beer-soup?" she asks.
A scornful silence.
"Such delicious beer-soup! I know a poor, wretched boy who would be awfully glad to have such delicious beer-soup."
My little boy looks with great interest at Auntie, who is swallowing her soup with eyes full of ecstatic bliss:
"Where is he?" he asks.
Aunt Anna pretends not to hear.