On his desk were lying several letters. Three of them contained bills, and the fourth was from his father. The three he threw unopened into the fire, and the fourth he read as follows:
My dear Son,—With growing concern I have seen from your last letter that you had again to incur large expenditures which harass you because you had not counted on them. Much as my desire would be to let you have the money you ask, with the best intentions it is not possible to do so. You know best how closely I have to economize to make both ends meet. If seventy-five marks would be any object to you, I could let you have them, although I had promised your mother this money for a new dress of which she stands in much need.
But I must frankly confess to you that I do not see why you should not be able to meet all your legitimate expenses with your pay and the two hundred marks allowance per month. At your age I did not have more than that myself, and yet I was able to undertake an extended trip every year. I give you the well-meant advice to live for a time a little more apart from your comrades, in order to reduce your expenses. Employ yourself diligently at home—there is so much to learn in your profession nowadays—and avoid carefully every opportunity which would force you into needless outlay which you would subsequently not be able to meet. Make your scale of living correspond to your income. If you will openly declare that this or that is too costly for you, every one will respect you the more, for they will see that you are not spending beyond your proper income. Do not live carelessly, and shun those amusements which you cannot afford. After all, it is both sensible and high-minded to live within one’s means.
Write to me soon how you have regulated this affair and whether the small sum I can offer you will be of advantage to you.
In the hope that no inconvenience of a serious character will grow out of your present embarrassment,
I remain,
Your affectionate
Old Father.
When Borgert had read these lines, he crushed the paper within his palm and then cast it likewise into the stove. With a sigh he sank into a chair and began to ruminate.
At this moment his servant entered and announced Leimann.
Borgert went to the door to meet his friend, and when they had stepped into his study, Leimann asked with considerable anxiety:
“Well, what important matter is it you have for me this morning?”