Max and Bertha took Uncle Stephen and their aunt to the little German play of the Turnverein; they took them to the German opera, which, by good luck, came to town, but they did not go in Max's car. Max took his aunt to ride one day, and another day he took Uncle Stephen, but not in his own car. The horses were eating their heads off, as he confessed to Bertha, but not a wisp of hay nor a grain of oats could he or she earn for them. One is glad to have his aunt and uncle come and see him. But how shall the pot boil if aunt and uncle cut off the channel through which the water flows to the pot, nay, block the wheels of the dray which brings the coal to the fire? At last one fatal day Uncle Stephen, as he smoked his pipe, came out, as he was fond of doing, to the paint-shop to see Max rub down his horses. Nay, the old man walked out into the garden, threw out the lighted _Tabak_ which he loved so well, threw off his coat, and with a wisp of straw rubbed down one horse himself. "I show you how," he said. "The poor brute--you do not half groom him." This in German. "Ah me!" Max replied. "We must groom them well. The proverb says, 'When the horse is to be sold, his skin must shine.'" "Must he be sold, then, my boy?" "Ah me! yes, he must be sold. He eats off his head. As the proverb says, 'If the man is hungry, the beast goes to the fair.'" "Mein Gott!" said the old man, not irreverently; "it is indeed hard times." "Hard times," said Max, "or I would not sell my bays. But the proverb says, 'It is better to go afoot fat than to be starved and ride.'" "And what do these people pay you for storing this car here, my son?" "Pay me? They pay not a pfennig. But the proverb says, 'Better fill your house with cats than leave it empty.'" "Mein Gott! they should pay some rent," said the old man. "I see by the rail they use it sometimes." And Max said nothing. The next day the old man returned to the charge. "My son Max," he said, "do this company keep their car here, and pay nothing?" "They pay nothing," said Max. "The proverb says, 'The rich miller did not know that the mill-boy was hungry.'" "My son Max, let us take out the car at night, and let us drive down town and back, and we will get some rent from them." Guilty Max! He started as if he were shot. "Max, my son, do you drive the horses, and I will be the boy behind--what you call conductor." Guilty Max! His face was fire. He bent down and concealed himself behind the horse he was rubbing. "What do you say, my son? Shall I not make as good conductor as my little Bertha?"