Why the Miller again looked into the tops of his boots; how a pint became a bushel; why Heinrich said good-bye, and why Friedrich considered that women were getting cheap.
The next morning, when the Miller had got out of bed, he again sat resting his head on his hands and looking thoughtfully into the tops of his boots.
"Mother," asked he at last, "did I quarrel with Heinrich last night, or did I dream it?"
"Why, father," replied his wife, "you kept embracing him and calling him your dear son, and you promised Friedrich he should have plenty of money when you became a rich man, and said it would not be so very long either before that time came."
"Then, mother, I was a fool."
"That's what I told you last night, but you would not believe it."
"Lord save me!" cried the Miller; "there is no end to these stupid tricks of mine!"
Friedrich came in.--"Good morning, Miller; good morning, Dame. I only came in to tell you, Miller, I had thought over the matter. I will let the money which you promised me yesterday evening stay with you at interest for some time longer, till I want it."
"Hm!" said the old Miller, moving uneasily on his chair.
"Yes," said Friedrich; "but there was another thing I wanted to ask you: will you let me leave at Easter? I know it's rather before my time."