"Well, don't help him, then. St. John's day is the best time, then he has no money coming in."
"Hasn't he though? He has the wool-money, and the rape-money."
"Yes, but then he has interest to pay, and most of it will have been spent beforehand."
"No, I cannot do it, I cannot do it; the foot which I have once planted in that fine estate, I can never draw back," said our old philanthropist.
"It is a great pity for a man to set himself about something, and then be afraid of the means," said the Herr Notary to David, as they drove home. "Our fine business in Pumpelhagen is at an end. I shall merely have to deal with the old woman, instead of him, the old woman will put it through."
"A dreadfully strong, clever woman," said David.
"Well, there is no help for it. Our milch cow at Pumpelhagen is dry. And it would all have gone well enough, David, if you had not been such a dunce. Why couldn't you make your father give notice for his seven thousand thalers? Then we two could have stripped him finely."
"Good heavens!" cried David, "he wouldn't do it. There he goes to old Habermann, and there they sit and talk, and when I say, 'Father, dear, give notice!' then he says, 'Give notice of your own money, I will take care of mine.'"
"He is getting childish then, and a man whose judgment is not worth more should be put under guardians," said Slusuhr.
"Well, you know, I have thought of that; but, you know,--it is so--well, so--so--and then, you know, the father is too clever!"