PFEIFER
[_Measuring and examining the texture; jeeringly._] Well! What next, I
wonder? This looks very much as if half the weft had stuck to the bobbins
again.
HEIBER
[_Continues._] I'll be sure to make it all right next week, sir. But this
last week I've had to put in two days' work on the estate. And my missus
is ill in bed....
PFEIFER
[_Giving the web to be weighed._] Another piece of real slop-work.
[_Already examining a new web._] What a selvage! Here it's broad, there
it's narrow; here it's drawn in by the wefts goodness knows how tight,
and there it's torn out again by the temples. And hardly seventy threads
weft to the inch. What's come of the rest? Do you call this honest work?
I never saw anything like it.
[_HEIBER, repressing tears, stands humiliated and helpless._
BECKER
[_In a low voice to BAUMERT._] To please that brute you'd have to pay for
extra yarn out o' your own pocket.
WEAVER'S WIFE
[_Who has remained standing near the cashier's table, from time to time
looking round appealingly, takes courage and once more turns imploringly
to the cashier._] I don't know what's to come o' me, sir, if you won't
give me a little advance this time .
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