The Vivacious Girl. But look, grandma, not even I could be as brave as you have been. And no one can ever say that I lose courage. [They all laugh.] I still shudder when I think how in those days in March of Forty-eight you had to run away! Or in the Sixties when the city was bombarded, you with my mamma and Aunt Olga escaped from the burning house....
The Sentimental High School Girl. How interesting that was! Tell us another story, grandma. [There is loud assent.] Yes, yes, grandma shall tell us another story!
Grandmother. But I have already told you so much. You heard all our history.
The Sentimental High School Girl. Not I, grandma; I have not heard the story of when you got lost in the Friedrichsrode forest.
Grandmother. That story I have told you so often, children. Ask your mother about it; she'll tell you.
The Polite Young Man. But, grandma, I haven't heard it, either. Just tell us that one and we'll go to play tennis.
The Disagreeable Young Man. If you'll pardon me, grandma, I believe you ought to tell us a different incident to-day. I've heard that history so often. Tell us something contemporaneous. Tell us about the first sewing machine, or the first railroad, or about crinolines or contemporary theater or art.
The Blond Young Lady. No. Tell us about the woods.
The Others. Yes, yes, that's right,—the story of how you got lost.
[The Disagreeable Young Man shrugs his shoulder and buries his head in his book. Grandmother begins to narrate, and the circle of her admiring and attentive audience grows narrower.]