(Exit.)
(SPERLING turns aside and mutely practises the pantomimes of reception.)
FRAU MORGENROTH.
Have you noticed, worthy cousin, what ridiculous airs the old lady is putting on?
FRAU BRENDEL.
Yes, indeed, Dame Cousin; she puffs herself up like dough in the oven.
FRAU MORGENROTH.
Goodness me! Her husband was only Under-Tax-Receiver.
FRAU BRENDEL.
When he died he left a debt to the Treasury.