Ida (displaying a little box of cigars).
I—am pleased—to think you have never dressed a Christmas tree!
Augusta.
If you come to think of it—it’s really not the sort of thing for grown-up people!
Mrs Scholz.
No indeed! If ever I’d suggested one, my husband would have never let me hear the end of it. With my dear parents—Ah! when I remember—what a beautiful family life that was. Never a Christmas without a tree! (Imitating her father’s gait and manner.) And then in the evening when father came from the office and brought the beau—u—tiful gingerbread with him (joining thumb and fore-finger as if she held a piece of the famous cake between them—she puts them to her mouth). Ah yes—those days are gone. My husband—he wouldn’t even eat his dinner with us—he lived upstairs—we down—a perfect hermit. If one wanted anything from him—good Lord—the only way was to get hold of Friebe.
Augusta (feeding the stove).
Oh don’t go on like that everlastingly!
Mrs Scholz.
Don’t pile up the stove in that senseless fashion!