’We often talked of you during the winter, Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘and wondered
how you were getting on.’
’That was kind of you,’ said Hans; ‘I was half afraid you had forgotten me.’
’Hans, I am surprised at you,’ said the Miller; ‘friendship never forgets. That is the
wonderful thing about it, but I am afraid you don’t understand the poetry of life.
How lovely your primroses are looking, by-the-bye”!
’They are certainly very lovely,’ said Hans, ‘and it is a most lucky thing for me
that I have so many. I am going to bring them into the market and sell them to the
Burgomaster ’s daughter, and buy back my wheelbarrow with the money.’
’Buy back your wheelbarrow? You don’t mean to say you have sold it? What a very
stupid thing to do’!
