"You were meant to," said I.
Guido did not understand.
Only when he saw Koster coming did it suddenly dawn on him, and he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Good God, the car belonged to you?
Ass, utter ass that I am!
Sold.
Diddled.
O Guido, that this should happen to you!
Caught by the old old trick.
However—no use crying over spilt milk.
The wiliest dog falls for the easiest bait.
We'll make it up next time."
He sat down to the wheel and drove off.
Our eyes followed the car, and we did not feel very happy.
In the afternoon Mathilda Stoss came.
We had still to settle with her for the last month.
Koster gave her the money and suggested she should apply to the new owner of the workshop for the job of charwoman.
We had already installed Jupp with him.
But Mathilda shook her head.
"No, no, Herr Koster, I've finished.
My bones are-getting too stiff."
"What do you think of doing then?" I asked.
"I'm going to my daughter.
She's married in Bunzlau.
D'you know Bunzlau?"
"No, Mathilda," I replied. "But Herr Koster?"
"Me neither, Frau Stoss."
"Funny," said Mathilda, "nobody knows Bunzlau. I've asked so many people.
Yet my daughter's been married there twelve years.
To a clerk."
"Then there will be Bunzlau too, you may be quite sure of that, if a clerk lives there."
"What I say.
But it is funny all the same that nobody knows it, eh?"
We agreed.
"How is it you haven't been there all these years then?" I asked.
Mathilda smirked.
"Well, there was something.
But now they want me to see the children.
They have four already.
And little Eduard must come too." "I believe there's very good schnapps to be had around Bunzlau," said I. "Damson or something—"
"Nothing like that," said Mathilda.
"As a matter of fact that was the something.
My son-in-law's a 'teetotaller,' if you please.
That's people who don't drink anything."
Koster fetched the last bottle from the empty shelf.
"Well, Frau Stoss, in that case we must drink a farewell schnapps together."
"I'm with you," said Mathilda.
Koster put the glasses on the table and filled them.
Mathilda poured down the rum as if it were running through a sieve.
Her upper lip worked-vigorously and her moustache twitched.