“He isn’t a tell-tale, but he certainly can give a good blow,” Jos comforted Vinzi.
Faz proceeded to the house, followed by the others. The mother was waiting at the table, patiently enduring the dreadful sounds Russli made with his pipe.
“You pipe like a cat that is half strangled,” Faz cried upon entering.
“You must not make fun of him right away,” said the mother. “He does not play so badly for a little boy. He was just telling me something nice about you, Faz. He said that you did not beat him all day, and that he never cried at all.”
“He only gets hit if he deserves it,” said Faz. “He behaved well today because Vinzi was amusing him. I hope Vinzi stays with us always. Everything went as smoothly as possible today.”
The other three entered now and Russli immediately flew to his father with the cry, “Now the pipe!”
“No, no, Russli, first we eat and then comes the pipe,” said the father sitting down. “You see when I was their age I also liked to cut pipes and blow on them. I’ll have to look it over a bit, and then try if I still know how.”
Russli was satisfied when he saw the deliciously smelling hot corn-cake his mother had put on the table. He immediately attacked his heaped-up plate.
After supper, when everybody leaned back happily in their chairs and the mother had cleared the table, the father said, “Now let me see the pipe; I want to hear what it sounds like.”
Russli, being rather sleepy after his hearty meal, found it hard to rouse himself. But he heard his father’s words and was dreadfully afraid that Faz might bring his pipe to the father first, maybe even keep it afterwards. This brought him to his feet.