Meantime the old bailiff was sitting at his desk, thinking how best he could write something that it nearly broke his heart to have to write. He was about to sever the tie that bound him to the place where the late squire had been so good to him. He heard some of the foolish talk that was going on in the yard, and started to the window to put things right, but no sooner had he got there than he drew back again, remembering that he had nothing more to do with it. He crumpled up the letter he had begun, and tried to write another, which gave him as little satisfaction as the first. He put all his writing things together and shut his desk. What was he to do now? What was there for him to do? Nothing! He was supposed to be beyond work. He threw himself into the corner of the sofa, and thought and thought.

Everything was ready for leading in the rye by the afternoon, thanks to the exertions of the old carpenter, and of two or three of the steadiest of the old labourers. So the work began. Alick got on horseback, and took command of the whole affair, and Fred, not to be outdone by his master, must needs ride also. As his deaf mare was lame he mounted a spirited old thoroughbred, and acted as adjutant. They set off. Six pairs of horses were taken out, and a pair of these was harnessed into each of the six harvest-waggons, which were then driven out of the yard in a row. Order was of more importance than anything else. On one side were the forkers, and the men who standing in the waggons arranged the sheaves on them, then others went to the barns to be ready to receive the loaded waggons, and the field-workers got into the waggons, and set off for the corn-field preceded by Alick and Fred on horseback. Such an arrangement was never known before at Pümpelhagen as on that lovely afternoon; but order must be maintained. The old carpenter, Frederic Flegel, stood at the barn-door and watched the harvesters set out: "Wonders will never cease," he muttered, scratching his head, "however it's no business of mine," and as he went back to his work, he said: "What has become of our old bailiff?"

An Old Story of My Farming Days Vol. II (of III). — Part 102