"
"But I thought you had a farm in Pomerania?" interrupted the squire. Now
was the time for Braesig to speak if he was going to say anything of
importance, so he exclaimed: "It's quite true, Mr. Councillor von
Rambow, that he had one, _had_ it, but has it no longer, and it's no use
crying over spilt milk. Like many other farmers he met with reverses,
and the hardness and wickedness of his landlord ruined him. What do you
think of that, Sir?"
At this moment there was a loud shout of laughter behind Braesig's back,
and when he turned round to see who it was he found himself face to face
with a boy of ten or twelve years old. Mr. von Rambow also smiled, but
fortunately it never occurred to Braesig that their amusement could mean
anything but satisfaction with a well delivered speech, so he went on
seriously: "And then he came a regular cropper." "I'm very sorry to hear
it," said Mr. von Rambow. "Yes," he continued with a, sigh, "these are
very hard times for farmers, I only hope they'll change soon. But now to
business--Alick, just run upstairs and see if breakfast is ready. It is
quite true that I am looking out for a new bailiff, as I have been
obliged to part with the last man, because of--well, his carelessness in
keeping accounts--but," said he, as his son opened the door and
announced that breakfast was ready, "you hav'n't had breakfast yet, we
can finish our talk while we eat it.
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