"With Rathsherr Herse?" cried the old Herr, also getting up and looking out at the window. "What does Rathsherr Herse want, Neiting?" "Why, he's talking with the Miller." "And most busily, too, he is talking, Neiting," said the old Herr, and his face looked bright, and a merry smile spread over it. "Thank God! I must acquit the Miller of all knavery now; it will turn out to be some folly, for the Rathsherr is mixed up in it." "But surely the Rathsherr is a good honourable man?" "He is, Neiting, but he plays pranks--sad pranks!" So saying the Herr Amtshauptmann went into the justice-room. At the door of the room stood Farmer Roggenbom, and Baker Witte, and Schult Besserdich, and a dozen more, all of whom had accused the Miller. And now when he came in amongst them with the Rathsherr, and saw his best friends against him, his heart sank into his boots; and when they all shrank from him, and he read his dishonour in their faces, his courage broke down; he was obliged to hold by the Herr Rathsherr's arm, and said in a low voice: "Herr Rathsherr, I feel very uncomfortable." A feeling like this is catching. My uncle Herse also began to feel uncomfortable; for the first time in the whole course of the affair a faint misgiving, a dim foreboding, arose in him that he had perhaps sat down in a bed of nettles. Everything that he had meant to say for the Miller became blurred and confused, and when Voss was called into the Justice-room, and he went with him, everything had vanished except his dignified appearance, and that, too, began to totter terribly when the old Herr came upon him with a grave: "To what do I owe this honour, Herr Rathsherr?" My uncle Herse was very good at answers--if one gave him time. He had always to make a great round before he came to the point. This question was too direct for him, and the old Herr's face too stern, and he could only stammer out something about "Notary Public" and "legal assistance for the Miller." "Assistance?" said the old Herr, and a curious light flickered over his face. "Good, Herr Rathsherr, be pleased to seat yourself and listen." So my uncle Herse sat down, and this was a piece of good luck for him; for he could recover himself and think better when sitting. And accordingly he recovered himself and reflected. "Miller Voss," asked the old Herr, "have you had corn to grind from him, and him? What say you, eh?" "Yes, Herr Amtshauptmann." "What have you done with it?" "I've sold it to Itzig; but the sacks are lying at the Mill. I will deliver them up to justice." "Indeed! that is very kind of you; but do you also know that you have been doing very wrong, and that it looks very much like cheating?" "I've only done what I've a right to do, Herr Amtshauptmann," said the Miller, and he wiped the sweat of care from his forehead, with the back of his hand. "Yes," said my uncle Herse, and he got up, "we are...."