Ficsur
More than you ever had in your life before. You leave it to an old hand like me.
Mother Hollunder
[Enters from the kitchen.] In the morning he must have his coffee, and at noon his soup, and in the evening coffee again—and plenty of firewood—and I'm expected to furnish it all. Give me back my cup and saucer.
[The show booths of the amusement-park have
opened for business. The familiar noises begin
to sound; clear above them all, but far in
the distance, sounds the organ of the carousel.]
Liliom
Now, Aunt Hollunder. [From now until the fall of the curtain it is apparent that the sound of the organ makes him more and more uneasy.]
Mother Hollunder
And you, you vagabond, get out of here this minute or I'll call my son
Ficsur
I have nothing to do with the likes of him. He's too common. [But he slinks out at back.]
