"Oh, it is different for you. You may be allowed to take notice of my being each year one year older, always provided that you give me upon all my birthdays as great a pleasure as to-day."
"You cannot reckon upon that, my dear; all years are not alike," the major replies. "This was a lucky chance."
"Have you had a stroke of good fortune, uncle?" Harry asks, trying to take an interest in the matter.
"Yes," the major informs him; "I have just concluded a brilliant transaction. I have sold the iron from the interior of the brew-house."
"For how much, may I ask?"
"Fifteen hundred guilders," the major declares, triumphantly. "I would not abate one penny. The superintendent was surprised at the sum, I can tell you."
"I do not understand such matters," Harry rejoins, thinking of the enormous expense of fitting up the brew-house some years ago. His uncle's 'brilliant transaction' reminds him of the story of 'Hans in Luck.' "And in consequence your birthday-gifts have been very superior, aunt?"
"Yes."
Frau Rosamunda displays with delight the prize pig. The green plume between its ears is slightly faded, but the coins in its body clink as triumphantly as ever.
"'A steed to carry you to Bayreuth,'" Harry reads. "I am so glad, my dear aunt, that your wish is to be fulfilled."