[The old men nod their heads, delighted. Buffe whispers to Bolling.]
Buffe. It's Knut. The son of Helms' daughter.
Bolling. I had a son.
Helms. I'm glad you came my—my son [glares at Krakau defiantly.]
Knut. I can only stay a minute. Have you heard about father's appointment?
Johnston. He's been bragging to us about it, sonny.
Hammer. And treated us to sherry.
Bolling. Port wine is poison.
Hansen. And cigars.
Knut. Not really!