Johnny.—But it isn’t your name day.
Hans.—Oh, yes, it is. I am the Baptist, the same as every other first born Karvan.
Johnny.—But it won’t fit you. Please don’t look in there all the time!—You see, it went like this—Dear grandaddy, my precious old fellow . . You are not even gray, so how can you be precious old fellow? But I tell you what! I can fix it up, and after I have said it to father, then it can be yours. Only in place of saying precious daddy, I can say “my golden uncle!”
Ann.—Johnny, you must not impose on your uncle. It is not right for you to be so talkative when uncle is in mourning.
Hans.—Why so considerate?
Ann.—Come on, sonny, it’s past your bed time.
Johnny.—I shan’t go.
Hans.—Just leave him here. Those few innocently prattled sentences have a remarkably refreshing effect on me.
Johnny.—You were always saying that uncle would never come again, and here he is. Only we two—we were certain you would come.
Hans.—Who are “we two?”
Johnny.—Aunt Julia and I.
Hans.—So? Aunt Julia and you?
Ann.—That’s enough for this time, Johnny. The boy has such a fond disposition, there will be no comforting him when you leave.
Hans.—But no one has said that I would leave. Look here, I have just arrived, have not yet spent a night under the paternal roof, and you are talking of my leaving.
Johnny.—Don’t go away again, uncle, please! (Half asleep) Stay here at the store. Father can dismiss the assistant and hire you in his place. I will love you even more than I loved grandaddy.
Ann.—Johnny, not another word!
Johnny (Falling off).—Aunt Julia always said . . .
Ann.—Surely you would not for one moment consider staying at this house, or even in the village.
Hans.—I have reasons for as well as against.
Ann.—The motives that brought you, cannot possibly prompt you to stay . . . You must be entirely disillusioned . . .
Hans.—To just which of my motives do you refer?
