Hella. I have allowed an exception in Paul's case today. Just take the pot and help yourself.
Glyszinski (shaking his head). Too bad! Too bad! (He pours out his coffee.)
Aunt Clara (has entered from the right carrying a platter with a large pound-cake). Children, here comes the pound-cake! Fresh from the oven. It's fairly steaming still. (She cuts the cake.) You surely haven't taken your coffee already?
Hella (very courteously). You are really going to too much trouble, dear Miss Clara.
Aunt Clara. Trouble, well, well. But now do help yourself! (She puts a large piece of cake on each plate.)
Paul, (smiling). Do you know, Hella, I do almost feel as I did as a schoolboy, when I came home for the Christmas vacation. In those days we would also sit in the hall and over there the fire would burn and the pound-cake would stand on the table exactly as today. Only that my mother had done the baking.
Aunt Clara (in the chair opposite the fireplace). Now you must imagine: I am your mother, Paul. (She has also poured out her coffee and begins to drink it.) How do you like it?
Paul. Just as much as in the old days. It seems to me as if it were today.
Aunt Clara. Then eat away, my boy!
Hella. You have really had very good luck with this pound-cake, my dear Miss Clara. Accept my compliments.