"To Mizzi's!" exclaimed her aunt in astonishment, throwing back her thin shoulders and sitting up very straight. "Yes ... Fanny," here Corinne made the habitual pause that followed any mention of Fanny in the family,--"Fanny has arranged it. You know Mizzi's anxious to please her." Again Frau Stacher showed no especial enthusiasm for the arrangement. It was getting into quite another category. After all Liesel and Anna were her own brother's children, but when you went into houses,--in that way,--kept up by nieces-in-law, it was quite a different matter. Mizzi was the family dragon too. Mizzi with a look or a word could quite ruthlessly devour aged aunts, superfluous children. A monster really, with a mouth and stomach, but no entrails. They all had come to know about Mizzi--in one way or another. "Perhaps I better go without dinner on Wednesday," Frau Stacher suggested with a slight quiver of her lips, though not because of the food. "You could perfectly well if you had too much or even enough at other times. But we've got to keep your strength up through the winter. You've just got to live," Corinne repeated sweetly, warmly, "and then think of poor Manny--he'll love having you." "Oh, Manny," her aunt responded, "poor Manny's got nothing to say," but her voice had a note of loving compassion. "Poor Manny, dear Manny," repeated Corinne slowly in the same tone, adding, "It isn't any of it forever,--next year I'll be making more money, and perhaps we can get a tiny, tiny apartment somewhere." Now the "tiny, tiny apartment," even as she spoke, seemed to Corinne the mirage it truly was. People had been known to die of joy on getting a tiny, tiny apartment. That very morning in the newspaper she had read of a man who had fallen dead when he heard he was at last to have a certain apartment he had long needed for himself and his family, and a rich man too. Everybody was talking about it. "I can't leave Elschen," continued Corinne, "it's a miracle anyway sharing that pleasant room with her while her sister's away." "It makes me so happy to know you're there," said her aunt warmly, for Corinne was of the race of homeless ones, and her address apt to be uncertain. Then for all her patience, she couldn't help wondering about Thursday. "On Thursday," continued Corinne, having got to the fourth of her slender fingers, "you're going to dear Kaethe's." Kaethe and Corinne were half sisters by Aunt Ilde's brother's first and second wife. "To Kaethe's!" she interrupted, "but they're all starving. I couldn't eat a mouthful there." "It's just because of that, that it's easy. When you go there on Thursday you are to take the whole dinner--for all of them. It'll be quite like old times when you always brought us things." Though delicacy was an essential attribute of Frau Stacher, she could not, at this point, restrain a slightly inquiring look at her niece Corinne, who answered after the thinnest of pauses: