But Braesig caught her by the arm and said:  “The child had nothing to do with it,” and then growled out in a half whisper:  “The old cat!” At the same moment loud crying was to be heard behind the grandmother’s chair, and Mina sobbed:  “I’ll never, never do it again,” and Lina sobbed:  “And I’ll never do it again.”  “Bless me!” cried young Mrs. Nuessler, “it was the little girls who did all the mischief.  Mother, it was our own children that did it.”  But the old woman had been too long accustomed to turn everything to her own advantage, not to know how to make a judicious use of her deafness; she never heard what she did not want to hear; and she did not want to hear now.  “Come,” she shouted, and signed to her husband.  “Mother, mother,” cried her daughter-in-law, “give me your cap, and I’ll set it to rights.”  “Who’s at the fold?” asked the old woman as she left the room with old Joseph.  Young Joseph lighted his pipe again.  “Good gracious!” said Mrs. Nuessler, “she’s quite right there, I ought to be at the fold.  Ah well, grandmother won’t be civil to me again for a month.”  “Crusty,” said Braesig, “was an old dog, and Crusty had to give in at last.”  “Don’t cry any more, my pets,” said the mother, wiping her little girls’ eyes.  “You didn’t know what harm you were doing, you are such stupid little things.  Now be good children, and go and play with your cousin, I must go to my work.  Joseph, just keep an eye on the children, please,” and then Mrs. Nuessler put on her chip-hat, and set off to the fold where the cows were milked.

“A mother-in-law’s the very devil!” said Braesig.  “But you, young Joseph,” he continued, turning to Mr. Nuessler, who was smoking as calmly as if what had happened was nothing to him, “ought to be ashamed of yourself for allowing your mother to bully your wife.”  “But,” said young Joseph, “how can I interfere?  I am her son.”  “You needn’t actually strike her,” said Braesig, “because your parents are given you by God, but you might give her a little filial advice now and then, such as befits an obedient son, and so prevent the devil of dispeace getting into the house.  And as for you, Charles Hawermann, don’t take a little tiff like this to heart, for your sister has a cheerful disposition, and an affectionate nature, so she’ll soon be on good terms with the old skin-flints again, and they can’t get on without her, she’s the mainstay of the household.”

“But now,” and he pulled an enormous watch out of his pocket, the kind of watch that is called a warming-pan, “it’s seven o’clock, and I must go and look after my work-people.”  “Wait,” said Hawermann, “I’ll go part of the way with you.  Good-by for the present, Joseph.”  “Good-by, brother-in-law,” said young Joseph from his corner.