She had already explained to them in a few words, why her
brother had come, and that may have been the reason that the old faces
looked even sourer than usual, but still it might be because she had
provided a better supper than she generally did. They seated themselves
at table. The old woman caught sight of Hawermann's little girl: "Is
that his child?" she asked. Her daughter-in-law nodded. "Is she going to
remain here?" she asked. Her daughter-in-law nodded again. "O--h!" said
the old woman, drawing out the word till it was long enough to cover all
the harm she thought the cost of the child's keep would bring upon her
Joseph. "Yes, these _are_ hard times," she continued, as though she
thought speaking of the times would best settle the question, "_very_
hard times, and every man has enough to do to get on in the world
himself." Meanwhile the old man had done nothing but stare at the bottle
of beer and at Braesig's glass: "Is that my beer?" he asked. "Yes,"
shouted Braesig in his ear, "and most excellent beer it is that Mrs.
Nuessler brews, it's a capital _rajeunissimang_ for a weak stomach!"
"What extravagance! What extravagance!" grumbled the old man. His wife
ate her supper, but never took her eyes off the oak chest opposite.
Young Mrs. Nuessler, who must have studied the peculiarities of her
mother-in-law with great care, looked to see what was the matter, and
found to her horror and dismay that the cap was gone from its stand.
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