"Why, Herr, you've told me yourself: 'What is written is written,' and in my new lease of last year it stands, that for every bushel I grind I am to have a bushel in payment."
"Where's your lease!"
"Here," answered the Miller, giving it to him. The old Herr read it, and shook his head: "Hm! hm! This is a very strange thing!" he took up his bell and rang: "Fritz Sahlmann is to come down to me."
Fritz came.
"Come here, Fritz,--nearer!"
Fritz came nearer.
The Herr Amtshauptmann took him by the ear and led him to the table where the lease was lying open.
"Fritz, what have I often told you? That you would do some terrible mischief one day with your flightiness! And now it's come to pass. You have led two old people into follies that would have cost them dear, if I did not know that they were nothing more than follies. Take your pen and strike out 'bushel' here and write 'pint' above."
Fritz did so. The Herr Amtshauptmann took the lease and gave it back to the Miller: "There, Miller Voss, it's all right now."
"But, Herr Amtshauptmann...." cried the Miller.