WELZEL
[_At her ironing._] Yes, yes, that'll be it. If he wants two hundred, six
hundred's sure to have come. There's no lack of _them_.
WIEGAND
No, they'll last. There's no fear of their dying out, let them be ever so
badly off. They bring more children into the world than we know what to
do with. [_The strains of the funeral hymn are suddenly heard more
distinctly._] There's a funeral to-day too. Weaver Nentwich is dead, you
know.
WELZEL
He's been long enough about it. He's been goin' about like a livin' ghost
this many a long day.
WIEGAND
You never saw such a little coffin, Welzel; it was the tiniest,
miserablest little thing I ever glued together. And what a corpse! It
didn't weigh ninety pounds.
TRAVELLER
[_His mouth full._] What I don't understand's this.... Take up whatever
paper you like and you'll find the most heartrending accounts of the
destitution among the weavers. You get the impression that three-quarters
of the people in this neighbourhood are starving. Then you come and see a
funeral like what's going on just now. I met it as I came into the
village. Brass band, schoolmaster, school children, pastor, and such a
procession behind them that you would think it was the Emperor of China
that was getting buried.
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