Fine doings! As if I hadn’t had enough excitement—it’s enough to kill one. You’re always complaining of _something_. AUGUSTA (_snappishly_). Complaining! Complaining!—Haven’t I got enough to complain about? MRS SCHOLZ. You behave charmingly to your mother, I must say. AUGUSTA. Oh! what do you expect? Who could help being frightened—in pitch darkness—absolutely alone— MRS BUCHNER (_putting her arms round Augusta’s waist from behind—soothingly_). Madcap! Madcap! to flare up like that for nothing! Come now. (_Helping her to take off her jacket, etc._) There!—you see?— AUGUSTA. Ah! but it is _true_, Mrs Buchner! MRS BUCHNER. Now my dear people, listen! Four long days already since we came to stay with you. I’ve been thinking—sha’n’t we drop all these formalities?—Mayn’t I call you Augusta? Eh?—Good—then—(_embraces her and kisses Mrs Scholz_). MRS SCHOLZ (_before she responds to the embrace_). Wait! wait! My hands are all greasy. MRS BUCHNER (_to Augusta, who is warming herself at the stove_). There now! Aren’t you better already?—Was the Christmas party nice? AUGUSTA. Nothing will take me there again!—Stuffy—no air—hot enough to make you faint! MRS BUCHNER. Did the minister speak well? AUGUSTA. I know one thing; if _I_ were poor, I’d have been off after the great man’s speech.—I’d have flung all their beggarly trash back in their faces. MRS BUCHNER. O—o—h! but it’s a great blessing for the poor people. [_A fresh, clear woman’s voice is heard singing._ “When beneath the linden leaves The blossom clings, Memory in my spirit weaves Dreams of bygone springs.” [_Ida comes through the stairway. She is twenty years old, and wears a close-clinging black woollen dress. She has a fine, fully matured figure, a very small head, and, on this first entrance, her long yellow hair is loose. She has an air of quiet contentment about her, a subdued cheerfulness and confident expectation of happiness. Although the expression of her clever face is generally bright, it deepens at times into a sudden seriousness, showing that she is unaffectedly lost in her own thoughts._] IDA (_a towel laid over her shoulders and some cardboard boxes under her arm_). Has anybody come? MRS SCHOLZ. Augusta has given us a fine fright. IDA (_pointing back up the stairs_). It’s not so very comfortable upstairs, either. I hurried (_laughing_) so that I could come down. MRS SCHOLZ. But, child! Robert has the room over you now. IDA (_putting the boxes on the table, opens them and takes out various things_). Well, if he has, the place is always empty. MRS BUCHNER. Your hair should be nearly dry by now, eh? IDA (_turning her head lovingly, and throwing back her hair_). Just feel! MRS BUCHNER (_doing so_). Oh dear—you should have washed it earlier, child! IDA.