FRAU STAAR. Drop a curtsey to your dear Dame Cousin first, there’s a good child! Now shake hands; that’s right! FRAU BRENDEL (_wiping the butter from her fingers_). Enchanting little creatures. God bless them! FRAU MORGENROTH. The very pictures of our dear Dame Cousin. FRAU BRENDEL. I trust they have had the pox! FRAU STAAR. Not yet. My son wished to have them inoculated, but I will never give my consent. I would not forestall the Almighty. SPERLING. Children, lay your bread and butter aside. CHILDREN. No, no. SPERLING. Well, then, take the flowers in the other hand. (_Enter Herr Staar and the Burgomaster._) HERR STAAR (_hastily_). They are just driving in through the gate. The street is full of boys. They are running along by the carriage, and yelling at the top of their voice. BURGOMASTER (_hastily_). He comes, he comes! The watchman is standing ready with his trumpet. SPERLING. Goodness gracious! The children are so awkward---- HERR STAAR. All you have to do is to strew your flowers and fling them in his face. (_The blast of a trumpet very much out of tune._) BURGOMASTER. Quick, quick! All go to meet him! HERR STAAR. The children lead the way! SPERLING (_snatches the bread and butter out of their hands and throws it on the table_). Leave your bread and butter here. HERR STAAR (_urging the children toward the door_). Quick, quick! CHILDREN (_crying_). I want my bread and butter! My bread and butter! BURGOMASTER (_following them_). Will you hold your tongues? FRAU STAAR. Frau Chief-Raft-and-Fishery-Master, you will have the kindness to precede me. FRAU BRENDEL. Never, Frau Town-Excise-Treasury-Secretary. I most urgently beg you---- FRAU MORGENROTH. Frau Under-Tax-Receiver, the honour is due to you. FRAU STAAR. The heavens preserve me! I am at home in this house. FRAU BRENDEL. I know my place---- FRAU MORGENROTH. I will not stir a step. (_The three begin to bow and curtsey, and all talk at the same time._) (THE CURTAIN DROPS.) _August von Kotzebue_ (1761-1819). _HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND._ THE Frau Obersteuerrätin was “auntie” to the whole world; and indeed she deserved the name, for she was a motherly friend, counsellor, and helper to all who came within her domain; she was the best and most charitable of women, judging mildly of the weaknesses of others so long as her own little weaknesses were respected. She over-looked the eccentricities of her clerical brother, which he committed in a state of absent-mindedness, and she did not raise any objections to Susie’s marvellous _naïveté_, though often enough it caused her bitter dilemmas. It was a warm May day on which the Vicar entered the room with his usual greeting: “Good morning, Auntie--good morning, Susie.” Auntie nodded pleasantly. Susie, who was sitting by her on the sofa, knitting a white stocking, arose, dropped a little familiar curtsey, and said: “_Votre servante_, Uncle.”