And I need a few pounds. If it was only a question of needing it—! [Already occupied in counting out another weaver's money, gruffly.] It's Mr. Dreissiger who settles about pay in advance.
WEAVER'S WIFE
Couldn't I speak to Mr. Dreissiger himself, then, sir?
PFEIFER
[Now manager, formerly weaver. The type is unmistakable, only he is well fed, well dressed, clean shaven; also takes snuff copiously. He calls out roughly.] Mr. Dreissiger would have enough to do if he had to attend to every trifle himself. That's what we are here for. [He measures, and then examines through the magnifying-glass.] Mercy on us! what a draught! [Puts a thick muffler round his neck.] Shut the door, whoever comes in.
APPRENTICE
[Loudly to PFEIFER.] You might as well talk to stocks and stones.
PFEIFER
That's done!—Weigh! [The weaver places his web on the scales.] If you only understood your business a little better! Full of lumps again…. I hardly need to look at the cloth to see them. Call yourself a weaver, and "draw as long a bow" as you've done there!
BECKER has entered. A young, exceptionally powerfully-built weaver; offhand, almost bold in manner. PFEIFER, NEUMANN, and the APPRENTICE exchange looks of mutual understanding as he comes in.