"When a miller or a sweep grows affectionate, there's sure to be a misfortune," Johannes says, attempting a joke, and tries to take the brush out of her hand. "Please allow me, Mr. Johannes," she protests, hiding the brush under her apron. Martin hits the bench with his fist. "Mr. Johannes! Well, I never--what's the meaning of that? Haven't you made friends yet?--eh?" Johannes is silent and Trude brushes away at him with great vigor. "Then I suppose you haven't even given each other a kiss yet?" Trude lets the brush fall suddenly. Johannes says "H'm" and busies himself with rolling the wheel of one of his spurs along the scraper standing at the entrance. "It's the proper thing to do, however! Now then!" Johannes faces about and twirls his moustache, determined to get over his awkward predicament by playing the man of the world; but with all that he has not the courage to bend down to her. He stands there as stiff as a post and waits till she holds up her little mouth; then for a moment he presses his trembling lips upon hers, and feels how a slight shudder runs through her frame. A moment later it is all over. With a shy smile they stand next to one another--both blushing all over.--Martin slaps his knees with his hands and declares it has been as good as a side-splitting farce. Then he suddenly gets up and walks off. He must ponder over his happiness in solitude. In the afternoon the brothers go together into the mill. Trude stands at the window and looks after them, and, when Johannes turns around, she smiles and hides behind the curtain. On the threshold Johannes stands still and leans his head against the door-post, and deep emotion fills him as he gazes into the semi-darkness of the dear old place from which proceeds such a din of wheels that it nearly stuns him, while the draught drives into his face great whitish-grey clouds of flour, bran-dust and steam. Side by side the various "runs" open out before him. On the left, nearest the wall, the old "bolting-run," for the finest flour; then the "bruising-run," where the bran and flour remain together; then the "groats-run," where the barley is freed from its husks; and finally the "cylinder-run," one of the new kind only recently added.--They have also had a new spiral alley and a lift made. Fashion now-a-days requires all these innovations.