"I'll not be good company, Ern," but Roger's voice was wistful.
"Come along! Mother doesn't mind your grouches, and I guess the rest of us can endure one more."
Roger turned up the brick path that led to the door.
"Hello, boys!" Elsa called, as the front door slammed. "You're late!"
Elschen at twenty-nine was still very pretty in an unobtrusive way. Her yellow hair was thick and curly. Her eyes were like Ernest's and her skin was fair, with a velvety flush in her delicately rounded cheeks.
"Supper's ready," she went on. "Papa just came in. Don't keep him waiting, children."
Roger and Ernest went quickly into the dining room where Papa Wolf was just sitting down. He nodded to them over his spectacles, then helped himself to a slice of meat.
"Where's Mamma?" asked Ernest, passing the bread to Roger.
"Here, liebchen!" Mamma Wolf came in, carrying a steaming coffee pot. She set it down, then hurried round the table to kiss first Ernest, then Roger.
"You know Rog can't eat without you, Mütterchen," laughed Ernest.