_Mopsa_ (_takes a little housewife out of her pocket_). SPRETA said you had lost the button off the back of your collar. I thought I would sew it on for you. _May_ I? (_With quiet warmth._) I'll _try_ not to run the needle into you. _Alfred_ (_absently_). Do; it may distract my thoughts a little. Where _is_ SPRETA, by the way? _Mopsa._ Only taking a little walk with BLOCHDRÄHN. (_Sewing._) Perhaps it is _hardly_ the weather for a stroll; but then he was always so perfectly devoted to--h'm--to Little MOPSËMAN, you know. _Alfred_ (_surprised_). But SPRETA wasn't. She never liked him--not even as a puppy. And now tell me--don't you think you could take a fancy to BLOCHDRÄHN--h'm? _Mopsa._ Oh, no! Please! (_Covers her face with her hands._) You mustn't really ask me why. (_Looks at him through her fingers._) Because I _know_ I should tell you; you have such an irresistible influence over me. Oh dear! oh dear! what _will_ you think of me? (_Moves close up to him._) There's a button off your _shirt-front_ now! _Alfred_ (_plaintively_). Am I to have _that_ one sewn on too? _Mopsa._ Yes, it's the right thing to do. Though how SPRETA can _let_ you go about like this, I _can't_ think! _Alfred_ (_with a half smile_). When I have _you_ to look after me. This is quite like the dear old days! _Mopsa._ Yes. (_Sewing._) I remember I mended all your things, like a sister. Even then you never had _quite_ all your buttons, _had_ you, dear? _Alfred_ (_patting her hand_). Not even then. And do you remember how you used to follow me about, just like a little dog? And I used to call you "Little MOPSËMAN," because your name was MOPSA; and if I had _had_ a dog, I should have called _him_ Little MOPSËMAN. And then how you used to sit up and hold a biscuit on your nose, my dear faithful MOPSA! _Mopsa._ I wonder how you can be so childish! (_Smiling involuntarily._) It _was_ a rich beautiful time; but it was all over when you married. I hope you have never mentioned all that nonsense to SPRETA? _Alfred._ I _may_ have. One _does_ tell one's wife some things--unintentionally. (_Clutching his forehead._) But oh, how _can_ I sit here and forget Little MOPSËMAN so completely? Have I _no_ heart? _Mopsa._ If you have lost it, I think I know where it is. And you must surely give your grief a rest occasionally, too. _Alfred._ I mustn't. I won't. I _will_ think of him.... By the way, are we to have dried fish for dinner _again?_... Oh, _there_ I go once more--in the very middle of my agony--just when I want to be torturing myself unspeakably with this gnawing crushing regret! What a wonderfully realistic touch it is, though, eh? So dramatic! But after all, I have _you_, MOPSA. I'm so glad of that! _Mopsa_ (_looking earnestly at him_). Surely you mean dear SPRETA--not _me_, ALFRED?