Hawermann rose and shook hands with the old people, while his sister stood close by looking at them anxiously, to see what they thought of the visitor.  She had already explained to them in a few words, why her brother had come, and that may have been the reason that the old faces looked even sourer than usual, but still it might be because she had provided a better supper than she generally did.  They seated themselves at table.  The old woman caught sight of Hawermann’s little girl:  “Is that his child?” she asked.  Her daughter-in-law nodded.  “Is she going to remain here?” she asked.  Her daughter-in-law nodded again.  “O—­h!” said the old woman, drawing out the word till it was long enough to cover all the harm she thought the cost of the child’s keep would bring upon her Joseph.  “Yes, these are hard times,” she continued, as though she thought speaking of the times would best settle the question, “very hard times, and every man has enough to do to get on in the world himself.”  Meanwhile the old man had done nothing but stare at the bottle of beer and at Braesig’s glass:  “Is that my beer?” he asked.  “Yes,” shouted Braesig in his ear, “and most excellent beer it is that Mrs. Nuessler brews, it’s a capital rajeunissimang for a weak stomach!” “What extravagance!  What extravagance!” grumbled the old man.  His wife ate her supper, but never took her eyes off the oak chest opposite.  Young Mrs. Nuessler, who must have studied the peculiarities of her mother-in-law with great care, looked to see what was the matter, and found to her horror and dismay that the cap was gone from its stand.  Good gracious! what had become of it?  She had plaited it up that very morning, and hung it on the stand.  “Where’s my cap?” the old woman at last inquired.  “Never mind, mother,” said her daughter-in-law bending toward her, “I’ll get it directly.”  “Is it done up yet?” The young woman nodded, and thought, surely grandmother will be satisfied now, but the old woman glanced into every corner of the room to see what she could find out.  Braesig’s countenance changed when he heard the cap spoken of, and he looked about him hastily to see where the “beastly thing” could have got to, but in another moment old Mrs. Nuessler pointed at little Louisa Hawermann, and said with a venomous smile, like a stale roll dipped in fly-poison:  “It must be plaited all over again.”  “What’s the matter?” cried her daughter-in-law, and starting up as she spoke, she saw the ends of the cap ribbons hanging down below the hem of the child’s frock; she lifted her niece off the chair, and was going to have picked up the cap, but the old woman was too quick for her.  She seized her crumpled head-gear, and when she saw the flattened puffs, and Braesig’s bit of pack-thread hanging half in and half out of the caser, her wrath boiled over, and holding up her cap so that every one might see it, exclaimed:  “Good for nothing chit!” and was going to have struck the little girl over the head with her cap.