Wheat was again growing in the field by the mill, as when Hawermann came to Pümpelhagen eleven years before. Hawermann was on his way back from church, for it was Sunday, and he had that morning listened to Mr. Behrens' sermon and visited his little daughter. He was on foot, for the church was but a short distance from home, and the weather was as beautiful as midsummer could make it. As he went through the wheat-field his heart was full of joy at the thought of the visible blessing God had bestowed on that which had been sown in hope, and in ignorance of what the future might bring forth. He himself profited nothing by the blessing of the rich harvest, it all belonged to his master, but he had the pleasure of seeing it, and the sight made his heart overflow with joy and thankfulness. He whistled a merry air and then smiled at himself when he found what he was doing, for he very seldom felt inclined to show any outward signs of rejoicing. "Well," he said to himself, "I've gone my rounds here for eleven years now, and the worst is over. Let me go round once more, and other eyes shall see it."--He turned into the path leading through the garden, which lay on high ground to one side of a small plantation of oaks and beeches. The foot-path was well swept and weeded, for the Squire and his family were expected that afternoon. When Hawermann got to the edge of the wood, he turned round and looked back at the wheat-field, saying to himself with a smile: "Yes, it's a much heavier crop now than it was eleven years ago; but I must be just; the weather has been far better for farming this year than it was then. I wonder what the old gentleman will say to it.--There's still a good long time to pass before the harvest though, but we've got the rape as good as safe, that's one thing. I only hope and trust that it isn't sold already," and he sighed. Then thinking over the events of the past eleven years: "The old gentleman isn't a bit richer than he was when I came. Indeed, how could he, with five daughters and two sons-in-law to drain his purse, to say nothing of my lady, who seems to think that because money is round, it may be set rolling with impunity. And then the son, what a lot of money it takes to keep him in a Prussian cavalry regiment!--Yes, the times are better, far better than when I had my farm; but when a man once gets into difficulties it's hard work getting straight again, and he has grown so much older looking in the last year or two."--Hawermann was in no particular hurry to get home, as dinner was put off until Mr. von Rambow came, not that the Squire had given orders to that effect, but it was an understood thing: "Yes," he thought, as he seated himself in the shade, "he will be glad to see that the wheat is good, for it will help him on, and he is in need of money. Fortunately the times are better."