Kneirtje.
[Rising.] Hasn’t the wind gone down yet?
Clementine.
I’ve brought you some veal soup, Kneir. It’s delicious. Well, Almighty! You’ve spilled it all over.
Kaps.
I’d like to see you carry a full pan with the sand blowing in your eyes.
Clementine.
Well, its mighty queer. There was twice as much meat in it.
Kaps.
What? Can’t hear, with the wind.