MORITZ--I can’t!--I can’t talk comfortably about propagation! If you want to help me, give me your information in writing. Write down what you know. Make it as short and plain as you can, and stick it between my books to-morrow at recess. I’ll carry it home without knowing I have it, and come upon it sometime unexpectedly. I won’t be able to help skimming thru it, even if I’m tired.... If it’s absolutely necessary, you can draw something in the margin, too. MELCHIOR--You’re like a girl.... But just as you like. It’ll be an interesting job for me all right.--One question, Moritz. MORITZ--Hm? MELCHIOR--Have you ever =seen= a girl? MORITZ--Yes! MELCHIOR--All? MORITZ--Every bit! MELCHIOR--I, too.--Then no illustrations will be necessary. MORITZ--At the Shooting-meet, in Leilich’s Anatomical Museum. If it had come up, I’d have been chucked out of school. As beautiful as the daylight--and oh, so =true=! MELCHIOR--I was with Mama in Frankfort last summer-- Are you going already, Moritz? MORITZ--To get my work done.--Good night. MELCHIOR--So long! CURTAIN SCENE III.--_A stormy afternoon._ MARTHA, WENDLA _and_ THEA _are coming along the path_. MARTHA--How the water gets into your shoes! WENDLA--How the wind whistles past your cheeks! THEA--How your heart pounds! WENDLA--Let’s go out to the bridge. Ilse said the river was full of bushes and trees. The boys have a raft on the water. They say Melchi Gabor nearly got drowned yesterday evening. THEA--Oh, =he= can swim! MARTHA--You bet he can, kid! WENDLA--If he hadn’t been able to swim, I guess he’d have been really drowned. THEA--Your braid’s coming out, Martha, your braid’s coming out! MARTHA--Pooh, let it! It bothers me so all the time! I can’t wear my hair short, like you; I can’t wear it loose like Wendla; I can’t wear a bang; and at home I even have to put it up--all on account of my aunt! WENDLA--I’ll bring scissors with me to-morrow to the confirmation-class. While you’re reciting “Well for him who erreth not” I’ll cut it off! MARTHA--For God’s sake, Wendla! Papa’ll beat me to pieces, and Mama’ll lock me up three nights in the coal-hole! WENDLA--What’ll he beat you with, Martha? MARTHA--It often strikes me that they’d miss something, after all, if they didn’t have such a horrid little brat as I am. THEA--Oh, my dear! MARTHA--Aren’t you allowed to have a sky-blue ribbon thru the top of your chemise? THEA--Pink satin! Mama thinks pink goes well with my pitch-black eyes. MARTHA--Blue’s awfully becoming to me.--Well, Mama yanked me out of bed by the hair--this way; I fell with my hands out on the floor.--You see Mama prays with us night after night.... WENDLA--In your place I’d have run away from them long ago, out into the world. MARTHA--There! That’s it, that’s just what I’m aiming at. That’s just it.--But she’d like to see me! Oh, she’d just like to see me! At any rate, I shan’t have anything to blame my =mother= for later on! THEA--Huh--huh--