Page:Poet Lore, volume 35, 1924.pdf/342



Anezka (Brightening, extends toward them a letter which she holds in her hand).—Father,—mother,—we are going to have company!

Klementina.—Who is it to be?

Anezka (Radiantly).—Mr. Prokop he writes me that he is coming!

Klementina (Aside to her husband).—Notice how she looked when she spoke of him.

Anezka.—He is coming some time this morning!

Dr. Svoboda.—But he did not write to me?

Anezka.—His letter is awaiting you; it is downstairs. I will bring it up with the others.

Klementina.—Listen, Anezka—let that letter go just now.

Anezka (Looking at the two).—Mother, is it something serious?

Klementina.—Mr. Kytka has just asked for permission to speak for your hand.

Anezka (Overcome with surprise).—Mine,—mine! (Glances from her mother to her father, bursts into tears, then runs off.)

Dr. Svoboda.—That is not a cheerful sign!

Klementina (Suspiciously). There is love back of it!

Dr. Svoboda.—You think so? What kind?

Klementina.—I do not know.

Dr. Svoboda (Sighing).—Our answer to Mr. Kytka will be somewhat disappointing to him! And what shall we say to Mr. Scheffel?

Klementina.—That depends upon ourselves.

Dr. Svoboda.—Upon him, rather! He is not a simple-minded boy!

Klementina (Hesitatingly).—He told the treasurer several times yesterday, that he is still in need of fifty thousand florins for his factory.

Dr. Svoboda (Ironically).—A practical man,—he comes right to the point.