"All except a few wires," said Kummas; "and I will send Christlieb with it immediately. Are you going to market already? Have you caught many birds to-day?"
"None worth speaking of; only a few larks and chaffinches. The larger birds come later;" and the old man drew out a lot of dead birds from under his cloak.
Christlieb quickly threw down the violin to look at the birds.
"Take care; they will bite you!" said Butter in a joke, shaking them in the face of the child.
"Poor things! how pretty they are with their beautiful feathers! But why are they all dead?" asked Christlieb in a tone of pity.
"Would you like to eat them alive?" said Butter.
"What!" exclaimed the boy in astonishment; "are they to be eaten?"
"The creatures are so very small, and when their feathers are off, they will be still less."
"That is quite true," replied Butter; "such a bird makes but two bites; and if one does not wish to leave the table as hungry as when he sat down, he must eat a dozen of them at least. Therefore rich people are rightly called bird-devourers."
"How much does one cost?" inquired Christlieb.
"For a halfpenny I will give you a lark or two finches."
"For a single halfpenny!" repeated the boy, much surprised. "Their feathers alone are worth more."
"I will make you a present of them," rejoined Butter, "if you will be at the trouble of plucking them off."
"Ah!" said Christlieb, "if they were alive, I would buy two chaffinches."
"I have a word to say to that," began Kummas; "where will you find meat for them?"
Christlieb made no answer; and Butter, changing the subject, said, "Neighbour, it is pretty cold in this room of yours; what will it be when the new year comes with its twenty degrees colder?"
"What!" exclaimed Kummas; "do you say it is cold here? It is an utter impossibility; for this morning I put into the stove sixteen dollars worth of wood!"
"Don't tell me such nonsense! who would believe that?"
"Well, then, look in and convince yourself," replied Kummas. "My violincello is burning there, and I can show you by writing that it cost me sixteen dollars."
"So, so, ah! I understand," continued Butter, laughing. "But what a dreadful spendthrift you are! No millionaire, no, not even a king, burns such precious wood."