this afternoon.  My poor sister will be sorry; but it’s better for her and her household peace that it should be so, and for my little girl * *.”  He then thanked the clergyman and his wife gratefully and heartily, and when he had said good-by, and he and Braesig were out of doors, he drew a long breath of relief, and said “Everything looked dark to me this morning, but now the sun has begun to shine again, and though I have a disagreeable bit of business before me, it is a happy day.”  “What is it that you have to do?” asked Braesig.  “I must go to Rahnstaedt to see old Moses.  He has held a bill of mine for seventy-five pounds for the last eighteen months.  He took no part in my bankruptcy, and I want to arrange matters with him.”  “Yes, Charles, you ought to make everything straight with him as soon as you can, for old Moses is by no means the worst of his kind.  Now then, let’s lay out our plan of operations for today.  We must return to Rexow at once, dine there, and after dinner young Joseph must get the carriage ready for you to take your little girl to Guerlitz; from Guerlitz you should drive on to Rahnstaedt, and then in the evening come over to Warnitz and spend the night with me, and early next morning you can be at Puempelhagen with the Councillor, who expects to see you in good time.”  “That will do very well,” said Hawermann.

[Wheat was again growing in the field by the mill, as when Hawermann came to Puempelhagen eleven years before.  The same people still lived in the various villages and estates, only the manor house of Guerlitz had changed hands, for Pomuchelskopp, the man who had brought about Hawermann’s failure in Pomerania, lived there now.  His was the only house which uncle Braesig shunned, everywhere else he was the welcome guest bringing sunshine whenever he arrived.  His breezy common sense often recalled his friends from useless trains of thought.  “Braesig,” said Hawermann, “I don’t know what other people may think of it, but life and work always seem to me to be one and the same thing.”  “Oh, ho!  Charles, I have you now!  You learnt that from pastor Behrens.  But, Charles, that is a wrong way of looking at it, it goes clean against Scripture.  The Bible tells us of the lilies of the field, how they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet our Heavenly Father feeds them.  And if God feeds them, they are alive, and yet they do not work.  And when I have that confounded gout, and can do nothing—­absolutely nothing, except flap the beastly flies away from my face—­can I be said to work?  And yet I am alive, and suffer horrible torture into the bargain.”  Gradually this torture grew so unbearable that uncle Braesig had to submit to treatment at a watering place.]