"Now, you do not really think," said Pomuchelskopp, going up and down the room with great strides, "that your father would make himself so common, and run in the same groove with all the burgher proprietors, and vote with them, and neglect his affairs at home? No, if anything is wanted here, you must write, and I will come, and if I want the red cloak, I know a better way to get it--let every man look out for himself--and it is more honorable for me, if I get it alone, and not with trumpery landlords, who have perhaps a couple of thousand thalers, and when I come back sometime, and say, Malchen, I _alone_ have got it! then you may be proud of your father;" and with that he stalked about the room, and puffed tobacco in the eyes of his innocent children, till they looked like trumpeting angels in the clouds, who needed only a mouth-piece, with which to trumpet his future glory. "Kopp, are you going daft?" inquired his loving wife. "Let me alone, Häuning! Always noble! Tell me who you go with, and I will tell you who you are. If I agree with the nobility----" "I should think you had got snubbing enough from the nobility." "Häuning," began Pomuchelskopp, but went no further, for Salchen, who sat by the window, sewing, sprang up: "Good heavens! there comes the Herr von Rambow into the yard." "Häuning," said Pomuchelskopp once more, and there was great reproof in his expressive eyes, "do you see the nobleman comes to _me_. But now, out with you! Out!" and he hunted his offspring out of the room. "Malchen, take the coffee things away! Salchen, a wiping cloth! And Häuning," folding his hands in supplication, "now go and put on another dress!" "What?" said she, "do I go to him, or does he come to me? I am good enough for him, as he finds me." "Häuning," begged Pomuchelskopp, abjectly, "I beseech you! you will spoil the whole thing with your black morning dress." "Muchel, are you a perfect idiot?" she asked, not stirring from her seat, "Do you think he comes on your account, or on mine, either? He comes because he wishes to make use of us, and, for such a beggar, the old sacque is good enough." Muchel still petitioned,---vainly. Malchen and Salchen whisked out of the room, to dress themselves up a little,--the old woman sat there, stiff as a stake.