Mrs Buchner.
O—o—h! but it’s a great blessing for the poor people.
[A fresh, clear woman’s voice is heard singing.
“When beneath the linden leaves
The blossom clings,
Memory in my spirit weaves
Dreams of bygone springs.”
[Ida comes through the stairway. She is twenty years old, and wears a close-clinging black woollen dress. She has a fine, fully matured figure, a very small head, and, on this first entrance, her long yellow hair is loose. She has an air of quiet contentment about her, a subdued cheerfulness and confident expectation of happiness. Although the expression of her clever face is generally bright, it deepens at times into a sudden seriousness, showing that she is unaffectedly lost in her own thoughts.]
Ida (a towel laid over her shoulders and some cardboard boxes under her arm).
Has anybody come?