_A large whitewashed room on the ground floor of DREISSIGER'S house at Peterswaldau, where the weavers deliver their finished webs and the fustian is stored. To the left are uncurtained windows, in the back mall there is a glass door, and to the right another glass door, through which weavers, male and female, and children, are passing in and out. All three walls are lined with shelves for the storing of the fustian. Against the right wall stands a long bench, on which a number of weavers have already spread out their cloth. In the order of arrival each presents his piece to be examined by PFEIFER, DREISSIGER'S manager, who stands, with compass and magnifying-glass, behind a large table, on which the web to be inspected is laid. When PFEIFER has satisfied himself, the weaver lays the fustian on the scale, and an office apprentice tests its weight. The same boy stores the accepted pieces on the shelves. PFEIFER calls out the payment due in each case to NEUMANN, the cashier, who is seated at a small table._ _It is a sultry day towards the end of May. The clock is on the stroke of twelve. Most of the waiting work-people have the air of standing before the bar of justice, in torturing expectation of a decision that means life or death to them. They are marked too by the anxious timidity characteristic of the receiver of charity, who has suffered many humiliations, and, conscious that he is barely tolerated, has acquired the habit of self-effacement. Add to this a rigid expression on every face that tells of constant, fruitless brooding. There is a general resemblance among the men. They have something about them of the dwarf, something of the schoolmaster. The majority are flat-breasted, short-minded, sallow, and poor looking--creatures of the loom, their knees bent with much silting. At a, first glance the women show fewer typical traits. They look over-driven, worried, reckless, whereas the men still make some show of a pitiful self-respect; and their clothes are ragged, while the men's are patched and mended. Some of the young girls are not without a certain charm, consisting in a wax-like pallor, a slender figure, and large, projecting, melancholy eyes._ NEUMANN [_Counting out money._] Comes to one and seven-pence halfpenny. WEAVER'S WIFE [_About thirty, emaciated, takes up the money with trembling fingers._] Thank you, sir. NEUMANN [_Seeing that she does not move on._] Well, something wrong this time, too? WEAVER'S WIFE [_Agitated, imploringly._] Do you think I might have a few pence in advance, sir? I need it that bad. NEUMANN And I need a few pounds. If it was only a question of needing it--! [_Already occupied in counting out another weaver's money, gruffly._] It's Mr. Dreissiger who settles about pay in advance. WEAVER'S WIFE Couldn't I speak to Mr. Dreissiger himself, then, sir? PFEIFER