Frau Heinecke. Well, well! (Starts to go)
Robert. (Hurrying after her) Oh, Mother, he didn't mean anything!
Frau Heinecke. Mean anything? Ha! Ha! he's only talking that way to make you think he's the man of the house! (She goes out)
Robert. (After a pause, he tries to soothe over the unpleasantness) You still paste boxes. Father?
Heinecke. Still at it!
Robert. And the arm doesn't bother you?
Heinecke. My arm, ha! ha! ha! my arm! Do you want to see how I do it! First the pasteboard--so--then the fold--so! (With great speed he sweeps the pastebrush across two sheets of cardboard, pressing them into place with his left elbow) Who could beat your old cripple at that?
Robert. You are a regular juggler.
Heinecke. That's what! But who admits it? Who appreciates me? Who appreciates me? Nobody! How could the daughters--one of 'em already a Missus--respect me when their own mother gives 'em such a bad example!
Robert. (Indignantly) Father!