no one could have a bright idea without Petrovitsch's having a
brighter. Petrovitsch again made his acknowledgments, and the two were
as sweet to each other as possible, much sweeter than the lump of sugar
that Petrovitsch pocketed from dessert.

The thought passed through the old man's mind that the forest would be
a good purchase for Lenz to make, he furnishing the means; for the
landlord would ask him too high a price for it. That was what he wanted
to tell his nephew, when he remembered his noble principle of not
troubling himself about other men's concerns, and he desisted. He had
done too much already in busying his head in the matter. He noticed
that the ascent was more difficult to-day than usual; so much for
thinking when you are going up a mountain; you should do nothing but
breathe. "Here, you stupid fellow!" he called to Bubby, who was
grubbing after a mole when a good cooked dinner was preparing for him;
"what is a mole to you? let him dig!" The dog obeyed, and walked close
at his master's side. "Back!" ordered Petrovitsch again, and with the
dog put all unnecessary thoughts behind him. He would know nothing; his
tranquillity must be undisturbed.

The old man found the family at the Lion out of temper. The landlord
was in great wrath at hearing from his wife that she had offered the
forest to Petrovitsch, who had refused it. "Now the report will get
abroad that I am in want of money," he complained.

"Well, you said you wanted money," retorted his wife, pouting.

"I don't need you to do my business for me. I shall sell no paper at
the exchange to-day!" he exclaimed in an unusually loud tone just as
Petrovitsch was entering. The old man gave a knowing smile and thought
to himself, You would not boast so loud if you were not in want of
money. Just as dinner was ready, the post-boy brought in a number of
letters, some marked "Important." The landlord signed a receipt, but
sat down to table without opening them, loudly repeating what he had
often said before, "I read no letters before dinner. Whether they are
good or bad they spoil one's appetite. I am not going to have my
comfort disturbed by the railroads."

A wicked scoffer, sitting at another table, refused the due tribute of
admiration to this piece of wisdom, and profanely thought, There is a
locomotive running about in your body, put as good a face on the matter
as you will. This scoffer, it is needless to say, was Petrovitsch.

After dinner Pilgri