linen.]

George.

[Who follows his glance.] Yes, yes, you are right.

Pastor.

If you will allow me, I will call again about the sermon.

Mrs. Brauer.

[Giving him her hand.] Pastor, you know you are always welcome in this house.

Brauer.

Give my regards to our good old pastor. Towards evening we will see him, as usual.

Pastor.

Oh, I had almost forgotten! He desires me to ask you kindly, should you again favor him with eggnog, to please add a little more sugar, for the last was a trifle tart.

Mrs. Brauer.

Why, of course, the poor old soul.

Pastor.

Do not say that, madame; for when the time has come when all our wishes and hopes and desires are concentrated upon a small quantity of sweets, our sufferings are near the end. And now, adieu. Miss Marie, adieu.

Marie.

[Preoccupied.] Adieu.

[Pastor exits, accompanied by Brauer .]

[Gertrude enters.]

Mrs. Brauer.

Don't be afraid dear, no one will scold you.

Gertrude.

Oh mama, I'm so ashamed of myself. When he arrived he seemed so jolly--and now--I am sure he is offended.

George.

He was not offended, dear, only a little grave.

Mrs. Brauer.

At any rate, what do you think of him, Marie?

Marie.

[Glancing up from her work, sorting linen.] Of whom, mama dear?

Mrs. Brauer.

Why, the new pastor.

Marie.

Oh mama, my mind is so occupied, I hadn't given him a thought.

Gertrude.

[Aside to George.] Now you tell her, George.

Marie.

Gertrude, how about our manzanillo-tree--any blossoms this morning?

Mrs. Brauer.

You don't mean to say you haven't looked after that beloved tree of yours this morning?

Marie.

I have had no time, mama dear.

Gertrude.

[To George.] Now tell her.

George.

Marie, both Gertrude and myself insist, that you cease this endless drudgery for our sakes; it isn't right.

[Marie, humming, pays no heed--looks into space.]

Gertrude.

See, she is not even listening.

Mrs. Brauer.

What's that you are singing?

Marie.

I--? Was I singing?

Mrs. Brauer.

Well then, humming.

Marie.

Oh yes, last night at the station I heard a strange song--some one in a fourth-class coach was singing. Listen. [Sings.] "Zwirio czenay, zwirio tenay--kam'mano bernyczo--Rid wid wil dai dai--Ne'r mano bernyczo."

George.

And the Lithuanian text--you memorized it just from hearing it?

Marie.

Certainly.

George.

Well, where did you learn all that?

Marie.

Why, I have always known it.

George.

And could you translate it readily?

Marie.

Oh, it means nothing, really--[makes one or two attempts.]--"here"--no! "I look here and I look there--where may be my lover? Rid wid will dai dai--Nowhere is my lover!"

Brauer.

[Enters during this, unseen by her, puts arms around her. She shrieks.] There, there--[caressing her.] Patience, my darling, some day you will have one--perhaps very soon. Why, what's the matter, dear?