"Moderate!" asked Sturm; "what is moderate? It never gets into our heads. Twenty quarts a day is not much if you know nothing of it. However, Mr. Wohlfart, it is on this account that my dear departed did not choose that Karl should be a porter. As for that, few men do live to be much more than fifty, and they have all sorts of ailments that we know nothing about. But such were my wife's wishes, and so it must be."
"And have you thought of any other calling? True, Karl is very useful in our house, and we should all miss him much."
"There it is," interrupted the porter; "you would miss him, and so should I. I am alone here; when I see my little lad's red cheeks, and hear his little hammer, I feel my heart glad within me. When he goes away, and I sit here by myself, I know not how I shall bear it." And his features worked with strong emotion.
"But must he leave you at present?" inquired Anton; "perhaps he may remain on for another year."
"Not he; I know him; if he once thinks of a thing at all, he thinks of nothing else. And, besides, I have been considering the matter these last days, and I see I have been wrong. The boy did not come into the world merely to amuse me; he must turn to something or other; so I try to think of what my dear departed would have liked. She had a brother, who is my brother-in-law, you know, and who lives in the country; I should like my boy to go to him. It is far away, but then there's kinship."
"A good thought, Sturm; but, since you are resolved, keep your son no longer in uncertainty."
"He shall know at once; he is only in the garden." And he went and called him in stentorian tones.
Karl hastened in, greeted Anton, and looked expectantly first at him and then at his father, who had seated himself, and now inquired, in his usual voice, "Little mannikin, will you be a farmer?"
"A farmer! that never occurred to me. Why, I should have to leave you, father."
"He thinks of that," said the father, nodding his head to Anton.