"At what time do you have dinner here, Mr. Swan?" he asked.
Again the landlord could not control his laughter, as he replied, "It will be ready in half an hour."
"Suppose we stay," said Fritz, turning to his companions. "I am terribly hungry."
"So am I," echoed Paul.
"So am I," agreed Franz.
"I was about to suggest that you take dinner with us," said their host.
"It is quite a distance to the next public house."
"What will you have for dinner, Mr. Swan?"
"Liverwurst, roast potatoes, stewed pears, and warm brown bread with butter."
"I love every one of those things," remarked Franz.
"What will the dinner cost each of us?" asked Fritz.
"What would it cost?" echoed the innkeeper as if reflecting. "Oh, we will not talk of that. All I can say is that we wish every one who eats here to have plenty, and after the meal is over we can tell better what it is worth."
"We will stay," said the boys jubilantly, and removed their knapsacks. When dinner was served their host led the way to the dining-room and gave them places, and took his own. His wife was already at the table, then followed Letta and Peter. The landlord removed his skull-cap, bowed his head reverently as did the others and asked a blessing upon the meal; then he and his wife told the boys to help themselves, which they did forthwith from the large plates well-filled which they had placed before them.
Peter, who sat opposite, was filled with admiration of their powers of endurance, and said to himself, as the viands disappeared with astonishing celerity, "How much will it take to fill them when they are men? They make me think of our William when he was a growing boy, and had eaten all he could hold, father would say, 'William, are you satisfied,' and he would say, 'No, father. I am full, but I am not satisfied.'"
But notwithstanding the comparison with the insatiable William, the boys expressed themselves as fully satisfied when every vessel of food had disappeared from the plates, and when they returned to the reception-room told the landlord that they had heartily enjoyed the excellent dinner and asked again the cost of it for each.
"The cost? Well now, let me state the case as it really stands," said the smiling landlord. "If you had come and ordered a dinner of the kind you wished, and took seats at the public table, with a servant to wait upon you, I should have charged you the same that I would charge any other guest. But you just sat down with us at our family table, and shared the plain dinner that had been prepared for us, so I do not charge you anything."
"But we did have just the kind of dinner we like," said Fritz, "and I am afraid our fathers would not like us to go away without paying for it."
"Oh, boys, don't worry. Your fathers have taken many a dinner here, and, God willing, will take many more. All I ask of you is to take my advice by going to the station and taking the train for Frankfort. If you go now you will be in good time to catch the afternoon train for Frankfort. Now good-bye and a pleasant journey!"
The three boys shouldered their knapsacks, Fritz still wearing his rain-coat, although the sun shone brightly, and went through the market place on their way to the station, Pixy in the lead carrying a bone that Letta had given him after he finished his dinner, while the family gathered on the porch and watched their slow movements with tears of mirth in their eyes.
They had intended walking to Frankfort for two reasons. It would be something of an exploit to relate to their schoolfellows, and it would save money; but slow as they traveled to the station, the train seemed to have waited for them for they were in ample time.
"Do you wish single fares, or return tickets?" asked the clerk.
This was a question which could not be settled too quickly. The boys held a consultation, and Fritz gave the deciding opinion.
"If we buy a return ticket," he explained, "we will save money, but we may want to walk back, and then would have to lose what we pay for a return ticket. Besides, if we did not want to ride home, some one of us, or it may be all of us, might lose our return ticket, and Aunt Fanny would insist giving us money for tickets which we would not wish her to do. No, we will take single fares."
They bought them, and were about to step into a car when they were stopped by the conductor.
"Where is your ticket for the dog?" he asked.
"Must I have a ticket for him?" asked the boy, in surprise.
"I should say so! You must be a kindergarten youngster to ask such a question. Moreover, if anybody in the car objects to having him in there, you will have to take him in a freight car even if you have a ticket for him."
"I object," said a woman, sitting in the car next the window. "Who wants to get dog hairs on them when traveling for pleasure?"
"What shall we do?" asked Fritz, ready to cry.
"Get a ticket and get it quickly for the train will soon start, and put the dog in the freight car."
"But I must go with him. He would be frightened to be there without me."
"Certainly. You can go as freight if you wish. I have nothing to say against it."
Fritz hurried away, secured the ticket and returned, sad with the thought of being separated from his companions, but smiles came again to his face when they told him that they would go to the freight car with him.
They hurried in, and the train moved off while they were looking about them, hoping to see among the freight some boxes that would serve for seats.
They were nearly thrown off their feet, while Pixy, not at all unsettled by the motion of the cars, saw something so interesting in a slatted box filled with chickens that he sniffed and capered about in doggish delight. But the chickens were not at all pleased with his appearance, and fluttered, cackled and shrieked, awakening the old woman who was taking them to market.
"Whose black fiend of a dog is that, running loose about a freight car?" she exclaimed angrily.
"It is mine, good lady," said Fritz soothingly. "I did not wish him to frighten your chickens."
"How do I know that you did not set him on them while I was asleep? If he has hurt them, you will pay well for them."
"See, here is the cord that I hold him with," said the boy, taking it from his knapsack. "I will tie it to his collar, and he will not go near your chickens again."
But all that he could say was but oil to the fire, and Fritz found that the wiser plan for him was to keep silent; while Pixy, understanding that the storm of words had something to do with him, crept behind the box on which his master sat and looked up at him with a very penitent air.
The seats the boys had taken did not prove permanent, for at every station some of the freight must be taken out, and some brought in, but they enjoyed the trip, for the old woman and her chickens left the car at one of the stations, and they had the place to themselves.
"Is this Frankfort?" they asked at every station.
"No," the guard replied, "and I expect you to ask at every stopping place until we really reach Frankfort, and then you will not ask."
"Why?" asked Fritz.
"Because you will know without asking."
Presently Franz called out, "Hurrah, we are here!"
"Where?" asked Fritz, hurrying to the window.
"At Frankfort. See, we are crossing a river. It is the Main. Yes, there is the dome! I know it from the picture of the cathedral in my picture of Frankfort."
"Didn't I say that you wouldn't ask if this is Frankfort? Now boys, out with you, and take your dog. Good-bye!"
CHAPTER IV
A KIND WELCOME
The train drew slowly into the depot at Frankfort, and for the first time in their lives the country boys saw something of the bustle and excitement of travel. A crowd of people was hurrying out of the cars, and an equally hurrying one was passing in, while on the platform of the depot was a waiting crowd greeting returned ones, and bidding farewell to departing ones, in all of which the boys were so interested that for a time they forgot their own interests. At length the departure of the train brought to their remembrance that they, too, must depart and Fritz stepped up to an old gentleman whose pleasant countenance inspired confidence.
"We wish to go to the house of my aunt, Mrs. Fanny Steiner," he said. "Are you acquainted with her? She is a little, thin lady, has gray hair, and wears a widow's cap."
"No, my boy," smiled the old gentleman, "I have not the honor of her acquaintance. Perhaps you can tell me the number of her house and the street?"
"Yes, it is number 37 Bornheimer street."
"Good! I can direct you exactly how to go. You take the electric car which will pass here in a few minutes, and it will take you to the corner of the street not more than a few steps from number 37."
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Fritz much relieved. Paul and Franz touched their hats and thanked him, taking Fritz as an example in all things.
The car came, and the three, followed closely by Pixy, rushed to get aboard.
"You can't bring that dog on the car. It is against orders," called the motorman.
"What must I do?" asked Fritz despairingly.
"You must settle that matter between yourself and the dog. Perhaps he will follow the car if he sees you in it."
"Can I stand on the platform where he can see me?"
"No, it is against orders; but you can sit at the window at the end of the car, where he can see you."
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" and the three quickly boarded the car. Fritz took the place designated, and they were off, while Pixy, who believed that his master was deserting him, ran barking and howling in their track.
At every stoppage of the car, Pixy sprang up to the window, but Fritz knew better than to speak one comforting word, although his heart ached for his forlorn traveling companion who must walk—or rather run, and run fast to keep up with the rapidly moving car. At length Pixy learned the lesson of experience. As there was no chance for him at the back end of the car, he would try the front, so at the next stopping-place, he flew along the length of the car, sprang on the front platform and curled about the feet of the motorman.
"See here, boy, you must get out, and take your dog. It is against orders for a dog to be on the platform."
"We will go out, too," said Franz and Paul, jumping up to follow their leader.
"Give us back our money," said Fritz, holding out his hand, when they reached the street.
"No; it is against orders;" and the car sped away.
Pixy was delighted that the three boys were now on the same footing as himself, and proved it by springing up, putting his feet on his master's shoulders and licking his face; and the boy petted him to his heart's content. But Paul and Franz were not flattered in an equal measure with Fritz at Pixy's pleasure in their company as fellow-travelers, and expressed their opinion with clouded faces.
"Now this is the second time that we have paid out money and got but little good out of it because of the dog," grumbled Franz. "He got into a fight and your pants got torn, and we would, I think, have remembered the money if we had not been bothered about having to wait to get them mended. Then we had to come back and pay thirty cents to Peter and thirty to Letta; and afterward had to ride in a freight-car because of your dog."
"If you don't want Pixy with us, I will go back home to-morrow and take him," said Fritz with tears in his eyes. "It has been enough trouble to me that I brought him without first asking papa and mamma. It was a mean thing to do, but I thought it would be so nice to have him take the journey with us."
Franz and Paul were ashamed of their treatment of the one to whom they were indebted for the visit to Mrs. Steiner and Frankfort, and hastened to assure him that no matter what trouble happened through Pixy's fault they would make no word of complaint.
Pixy knew by the change of tone that peace had again spread its blessed wings over the "three-leaved clover," and to show his approbation he fawned upon all three with impartial effusiveness.
"I am sorry that I said that he had no sense like city dogs that were running quietly along-side of wagons, but must try to jump on the car whenever it stopped," said Paul penitently.
"Yes," replied Fritz, throwing his arm around Pixy's neck, "you were both glad when you saw that I was bringing him upon the journey, and now when he brings us into trouble we must not blame him for what he cannot help."
"No, it would not be right to blame him for loving us, and wanting to be with us," agreed Franz.
"Aunt Fanny will rejoice to see him, I know," continued Fritz. "No, I am not at all sorry I brought him, only I wish I had asked leave of papa and mamma."
The mention of his aunt reminded the three that they had yet to find her house, and they were in consultation as to what way to go when a workman in a blue blouse came in sight and they asked the way to 37 Bornheimer street.
"Whom are you going to see there?" he asked.
"My Aunt Fanny Steiner. She lives in the apartments on the third floor."
"If you will give me fifty cents, I will take you there."
The boys glanced at each other but were silent, and the man saw that he had struck too high.
"Well, then, suppose we say thirty pennies. That will be ten each," and to this they agreed and the caravan set out, Fritz leading Pixy by his cord.
The way led through several streets but at length they reached a retired street, and the leader halted before a neat dwelling with a flight of long winding steps leading up to a narrow porch and it was agreed among them that he should go up while the boys waited below. In response to his knock, the door was opened by a small, elderly lady, who was informed that three boys and a dog waited below.
"I am not expecting anyone," she said, stepping out upon the porch and looking down.
"Here we are, Aunt Fanny!" called Fritz. "It is our holiday and we have come to visit you."
"Come right up, dear," exclaimed his aunt joyously; "but leave the dog below. Dogs are not allowed in these apartments."
"But, aunt, it is Pixy, that you take out walking every morning in summer, and always give him a lump of sugar when you visit us in the country."
"Oh," cried the perplexed aunt, "I did not recognize him, but come up, boys. I am heartily glad to see you."
"First give me my money," said their guide, holding out his hand; the money was given, and the three and Pixy ran up the long steps, Fritz saying as he ran, "Come on, boys, we have found Aunt Steiner and she is glad to see us."
"Did you write that you were coming to-day, dear?" asked his aunt when all hands were seated and the boys had laid aside their knapsacks.
"No, aunt. You know I wrote two weeks ago and told you that Franz and I were coming as soon as school was done; and we thought you would not mind if we brought Paul."
"No, I am really glad he is with you; I met Paul and his parents when I was at your home in the country and am glad to welcome him as well as Franz, whose parents are dear friends of mine. The only reason that I would be glad if you had written is that I might have provided another bed. There is only one in my spare room."
The boys looked at each other with anxious glances. It seemed to them a hopeless case for they had tried the experiment of three in a bed at the Swan inn, and it had not been a success.
"Don't feel concerned, dear boys," said Mrs. Steiner kindly; "there is a wide lounge in the room with a head-piece which serves as a pillow. One of you can sleep upon it."
"Let Franz and Paul have the bed, aunt. I am perfectly willing to sleep on the lounge."
"Then that matter is settled. Now about the dog."
"He does not need a bed, dear Aunt Fanny," replied the boy, reddening with anxiety. "He can sleep on the floor anywhere, and he does not eat much; just the scraps from the table will suit him."
"I am not thinking of his bed or of his food, my dear; but you have come to Frankfort on a sight-seeing tour, and dogs will not be allowed at any place that you will want to go."
"Then we can leave him here."
"But to that there is also an objection. When I rented this suite of rooms, I assured the owner who lives on the first floor that I had no dog. In the apartments below me lives an old lady who is afraid of dogs and is frightened at noise. Now if Pixy should howl or bark while you are out, what would I do?"
Fritz loved his dog and it distressed him that there seemed to be no place in the world where he was tolerated except his father's house; therefore there seemed no other course than to return home and take Pixy with him.
"Oh, dear aunt!" he said tearfully, "let us stay this one night, and to-morrow I will go back home."
"My dear boy," said his aunt with tears of sympathy in her eyes, "do you think for a moment that I would allow you to go home, when this is the very first time you have paid me a visit? No; come with me and bring Pixy with you. We will go down to the first floor to see Mr. Steerer, the owner of this house, and ask him if he will let you keep your dog during your visit."
This was one ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, and Fritz and Pixy followed down the long steps. Mrs. Steiner rang the bell of the first floor apartments, and Mr. Steerer opened the door and invited them in.
"Now tell the gentleman why we have come," said Mrs. Steiner.
But Fritz was weeping too bitterly to make explanations, and his aunt had to speak for him.
"I have no objection to the dog staying," replied Mr. Steerer kindly, "providing he does not bark and annoy my tenant on the second floor."
"Now, Pixy, thank the gentleman for his kindness," said Aunt Fanny, and immediately the intelligent animal sat upon his hind feet and waved his right fore foot back and forth.
"But you must speak," commanded Fritz, who was smiling through his tears, whereupon Pixy gave a sharp little bark while again waving his paw.
"Now we will call and ask Mrs. Hagner if your dog can stay," said Aunt Fanny when they reached the door of the old lady's apartments and gently tapped.
"Come in! Come in!" laughed a voice within, "and I am pretty sure that I know why you have come."
Fritz felt so relieved at their pleasant reception that he made the explanation.
"Certainly, certainly, I will not object," replied Mrs. Hagner. "I do not like dogs, but I do like my neighbor and I like boys; so taking these two likings together, you see they are too strong to be mastered by the one dislike."
"Thank the lady for her kindness, Pixy," said Fritz gleefully and it was done, not omitting the bark, and aunt and nephew went with light hearts up the steps to the third floor to tell the anxious Franz and Paul the result of their visit.
"Now, children," said Mrs. Steiner, "let us lay that care and all others aside and be happy. I am rejoiced to see you all, and hope to make you have a pleasant visit. But you must also do your share to make it so by being satisfied with what I can do to entertain you. You must be contented with the few pleasures I can offer. And now tell me, Fritz, why you are wearing a rain-coat on a clear day," and Fritz explained the situation in a few words.
"Well, dear Fritz, we must sometimes have shadow instead of sunshine, thorns instead of roses; and you must not let this mar your pleasure. I am glad to see young, cheerful people about me; it makes me feel young again."
The boys looked at each other with a satisfied smile. They felt that it was the right kind of a welcome, and Fritz was proud of his father's sister.
"Now you can take your knapsacks into my spare-bedroom," she continued, opening the door of a pleasant apartment. At that moment to the joy of Fritz, a porter from the depot brought his satchel, and at the request of Mrs. Steiner placed it in their room. He lost no time in taking out a pair of trousers, putting the patched ones in the trunk, and then the three returned to the sitting-room which was also dining-room.
"Now, boys," said Mrs. Steiner, "I was just preparing supper for myself when you came, and all I will have to do is to add something more substantial for three travelers. But first I must ask how it happened that you did not write at least a postal to let me know you were coming? I might have been away from home. Then what would you have done?"
"Father said I ought to write to you and tell you the time we would be here," replied Fritz, "but I put it off until it was too late, and I thought you would not care."
"No, it does not make the least difference to me but it might have made a great difference to you. I might have been sick, or, as I said before, away from home. So do not trust to chance in such matters, but more than all, do as your parents advise. They know best. Now I see that it is my usual time for getting supper, and Paul will go out with me to buy something for it. Fritz and Franz can go into the kitchen and wash their hands in the basin hanging by the sink. Then Franz can tie on an apron he will see out there and take the peelings from a dish of boiled potatoes on the table and cut them up in small pieces, while Fritz sets the table in this room. The tablecloth is in this drawer, and the dishes in the cupboard; and he can set the table for four people as he sees it set at home. Now, Paul, we will go."
Nothing could have made the boys feel more at home that first evening than the sharing of the work of the household, and all joined in cheerfully.
"I am as hungry as a wolf; I could almost eat the cold potatoes," remarked Franz.
"So could I, but we can wait. Aunt will get supper quickly when she comes." And he was right, for the boys had scarcely finished their work when they heard her and Paul coming up the steps, and a half hour later supper was ready.
She had turned the well-chopped potatoes in a hot pan in which was melted butter and set Franz to stir them that they might brown without burning. In another pan she put the slices of liverwurst for Fritz to watch, and Paul, who had first been sent to the kitchen to wash his hands, put the slices of rich ham upon a pretty pink plate, and fresh lettuce upon another, and placed them upon the table, while Mrs. Steiner cut the bread and got a pitcher of new milk.
"Now, Fritz, before we take our suppers, here is a plate upon which you can break some pieces of bread and soften it with this good milk."
"What for?" asked the boy in surprise.
"For Pixy, who is waiting so patiently. Could we enjoy our supper knowing that the poor dumb creature is hungry?"
This was done and the plate placed on the floor by the window, and the heart of Fritz was filled with pleasure to see Pixy's appreciation of the good supper.
The potatoes and liverwurst, both beautifully browned, were placed upon the table, and all sat down.
"Did I set the table nicely, Aunt Fanny?" asked Fritz.
"Yes, very well indeed, except that you forgot the napkins. Please get four out of that drawer, and then choose the places you wish," and she took her own at the head of the table. Bowing her head she said in reverent voice, "Dear Jesus, be our guest at this meal and at all our meals. Bless the good food Thou hast given us, and receive our grateful thanks. Amen."
"Now, my boys," she continued cordially, "you cannot fail being hungry, and I hope you will eat heartily and if the meat and potatoes fail us, we can make out with this good brown and white bread, and butter and new milk and these stewed pears."
The boys were glad to obey and the viands disappeared like magic. Mrs. Steiner had many questions to ask about her brother and his family but would not disturb Fritz until he had finished supper. An old adage came into her mind as she saw them eat, "When a sheep bleats you may be sure he has no food in his mouth."
She was glad to see that they heartily enjoyed their supper, and when finished she made a proposition. "You can rest while I put the place in order for the night and then we will take a walk."
"Can I take Pixy?" asked Fritz eagerly.
"Certainly, if you lead him by his cord, and if a policeman speaks to you about your dog having no tag or muzzle, tell him that you are from the country and are only visiting Frankfort, which is your reason for not having one or the other."
"But I am afraid the policeman will take him. I would rather stay here with him."
"There is no danger of him taking the dog from you. The most he could do would be to make you pay a fine; and I am sure he will not do that when we explain matters to him. Now we will go."
"Where are all the people going?" asked Fritz when they reached the street. "At home we only see a crowd when the church service is over and that is but for a little while. Here the street seems alive all the time."
"Yes, Frankfort has more than three hundred thousand inhabitants and of course many are on the street, some caring for business, others for pleasure, and some, like us, are sight-seeing."
"Just see that beautiful place like a rich man's garden!" said Franz, "with trees and plants and flowers, and so many people walking there."
"Yes, they are the public gardens or promenades, and are in place of what was once the fortifications of the city. In the early part of the nineteenth century part of them were taken away and this splendid girdle of plants and beautiful walks took their place."
"Oh, it is lovely, lovely!" exclaimed Paul. "I never before saw a garden lighted, and with so many gas lamps that it is as bright as if the sun were shining. Can we go in?"
"Yes, but we will wait here a little while. Do you see this beautiful lake surrounded by trees? In a few minutes you will see a beautiful scene which will surprise you."
"Oh, this is the surprise," cried the boys in a breath, for like magic myriads of gas lights sprang up along the line of the trees and the Main river. It was a bewildering sight to the country boys, who had no words to express their pleasure.
"And two rows of lights are across the river," exclaimed Paul.
"Yes, they are on the fine new bridge over the Main; and above is the old bridge and several others which you can visit while in Frankfort."
They crossed the bridge and looked at the great dome of the cathedral, and while they were gazing, eight solemn strokes sounded from its clock, and other clocks over the city struck the hour.
"We have but one clock and one church-tower in our village," remarked Franz. "The boys in Frankfort don't get the chance to say the clock is wrong when they are late to school."
Thus chatting, they reached the bridge, and, leaning upon the parapet, gazed at the brilliant scene.
"See, Aunt Fanny, what is that coming down the river? A whole company of boats filled with people, and with music, and with flags flying?"
"That is a regatta, or sailing match. It will go under this bridge and down to the old one, then will turn and go up to that island where they will all leave the boats and will have games and refreshments."
As the boats passed under the bridge Fritz would have liked to jump down among the group of boys in the first boat; and he watched intently as the merry company passed up the river and turn, and then stepped off on the island.
"Aunt, do let us go to the old bridge, and look at the people," he said eagerly.
Mrs. Steiner was glad to oblige, and they hurried to the bridge to see the boats land, each one greeted by cheers. The whole company joined in a march to the sound of martial music by the band, then a short speech was listened to and when finished our triplets joined in the cheers, and the throwing up of hats without in the least knowing what the speech was about, or by whom made.
Fritz was so full of delight over the whole affair that he rubbed his hands in glee as he made known his resolution to be a cloth merchant when he was old enough and would come to live in Frankfort, and meant to join the rudder club. "I will tell them now that I will join," he ended enthusiastically.
"I think it will be a little too early, my boy," smiled his aunt.
"I don't wish to be too late."
"But it will be some years before you are a merchant."
"I am going to join the marines," exclaimed Franz eagerly. "Father wishes me to be a forester, and I had not made up my mind what I would be. Now I know. Yes, I will join the marines. Oh, that is a jolly life."
"Are you sure of that, my boy?" asked a man who stood near them on the crowded bridge, and Mrs. Steiner turned to greet August Stayman whom she had known from his boyhood, and introduced the boys to him.
"And so you think the life of a marine a jolly one?" he asked, turning again to Franz. "Well, our kaiser will need good strong men, and I will not discourage you. I was three years on the sea in storm and adventure, on a war-vessel, and am yet living and in good health."
"And what are you now?" asked Fritz.
"I am the owner of a cloth and clothing store, and also a tailor, and can wield the needle as well as ever, although my hands had been hardened by the heavy ropes."
"Did you have to come to Frankfort to join the marines?" asked Franz.
"No, I was born in Frankfort on the shore of the Main. People used to call me a water-rat; and they were right, for I became a more expert seaman on the Main than do many on the ocean. My longing was to be a seaman, and my mother, who was at first opposed to it, gave consent, and I have never regretted it. I looked death in the face many times, but escaped without a scratch."
The boys were deeply interested in this conversation, but it was interrupted by a succession of splendid fireworks on the island which surprised and delighted them beyond measure. They almost held their breath while watching an especially brilliant piece reflected in the water.
"Now, boys, we will go," said Aunt Steiner when the last exhibition of the evening fireworks went up, making the words "good-night" high in the air; "and we will call at a confectioner's for a glass of ice-cream soda."
"Let me have the pleasure of showing some attention to your young guests," said Mr. Stayman. "I shall be pleased to accompany you to the store."
Mrs. Steiner gave willing assent, and soon the five thirsty ones found themselves upon comfortable seats under the awning in front of the store and Mr. Stayman gave the order for five glasses of ice-cream soda with cake. This was a pleasant ending to the first evening of sight-seeing in Frankfort, and the triplets realized that "their lines had fallen in pleasant places."
As they were separating Mrs. Steiner thanked Mr. Stayman for his kindness, and he in turn invited her guests to visit his store, which was eagerly agreed to by Fritz, who considered the clothing business exactly in his line.
"Then you expect to be a clothing merchant, do you?" asked his new acquaintance.
"Yes, a merchant in the manufacturing branch of the business," was the reply in a slightly pompous tone and manner.
"Well, then it may be that you will come to Frankfort and learn the business of me."
"Study to be a tailor? No, I do no care to learn to sew."
"What have you against the trade of tailoring? Do you know any that is more honorable? Is it not our business here upon earth to serve our fellow-men? And are not our fellow-men well served by having clothes made for them? If a tailor understands his business and works at it in a faithful, honest manner, he is as much to be respected as a kaiser who rules his people in a just and faithful manner. Listen to this little rhyme:
"'Not everyone can wear a kaiser's hat,
Not everyone must daily gutters sweep;
Yet everyone can do his honest work,
In palace or in hut his charge can keep.'
"Do not think I am censuring you, my dear boy, but never, never speak disparagingly of any honest work."
"That little verse pleases me," remarked the quiet but observing Paul. "My father often says the same thing but not in verse. He says that work is no disgrace to anyone. And he tells his pupils that the smut that is upon the hands of a toiling man can be washed off by soap, but no soap can wash away the smutty word that comes from the lips."
"That is true indeed," commented Mrs. Steiner, "and now we must journey toward home and the blessed land of sleep, as my dear mother always called the bedroom. And she was right, for a comfortable bedroom is indeed a blessed place to the weary one at the close of a hard day's labor or the child wearied with play."
They bade Mr. Stayman a cordial farewell, and, taking another glance at the gay scene about them, returned to the quiet flat.
The boys began to realize how tired they were when they reached number 37, and went directly to their room and to bed.
When all was quiet, the careful aunt went in and just as she had expected, found no one had thought to put out the light. Moreover, Fritz was lying with his feet upon the raised part of the lounge and his head on the low part.
"Fritz, dear boy, Fritz!" she said, shaking him by the shoulder, "wake up! You must not sleep with your head so low."
"Oh, aunt," he said plaintively, "let me sleep. I am all right."
"No, you are not all right, and you shall sleep the whole blessed night when you get in a more comfortable position. Don't you see that your feet are on the pillow where your head ought to be?"
"Yes, but I was sleeping so well. Aunt, see you turned the lounge the other way, the head was down this way when we first came."
"Yes, Fritz, you are right. I did turn it that you might not be waked by the sun shining upon your eyelids. Now step off, quick, and put your heels in their proper place."
"Oh, aunt, indeed I am satisfied. Please do not make me get up."
"But I am not satisfied," and Mrs. Steiner helped him rise and still half asleep he dropped back upon the lounge with his head upon the pillow. She kissed his fair forehead, took up the lamp, and glanced at the three sleepers, perfect pictures of healthy, happy boyhood.
"Now, Fritz, is not that a more comfortable way to sleep?" she asked, but there was no response for he was fast asleep.
"It would be a happy day for me, if he could come to Frankfort and live with me," she said to herself, "but not as I will, but as God wills. May He protect them all through life, and keep them pure of heart as now; and ten years hence may they look as openly and honestly into the faces of their fellow-creatures as they do now. Let them not seek worldly honors in preference to the favor of God."
Then she went softly from the room to her own apartment.
Pixy was the first to awake the next morning, and had a good run in the grassy backyard to get an appetite for breakfast.
"Now it is time to wake our sleepers," said Mrs. Steiner, and went to the door of the room to call them.
They were too sound asleep to hear the call, and she opened the door and looked in. Upon the floor on the side of the bed occupied by Paul lay the pillow, and on the floor by the side of Franz's place lay the sheet. Fritz had lost his blanket during the night, and, not more than half awake, had reached out for it and gotten his handkerchief, which he had spread over his shoulders, and his head was resting upon the chair which his careful aunt had placed in front of the head-piece of the lounge.
"Wake up, sleepers!" she said cheerfully. "The sun has been up this long while. There is only one washstand, but you can take turns at it; and there is a pitcher of cool fresh water. Now make yourselves neat as quickly as possible that you may be ready for breakfast."
She returned to the kitchen and presently the odor of frying sausage and steaming coffee floated into the room, and a little later the triplets stood beside Mrs. Steiner, neat, refreshed and in splendid spirits.
"Pixy has been trying to take a bath in the pan of fresh water that I set out for the birds," said Mrs. Steiner, "and as he could not get into it, he dipped a foot in as does a cat. All animals try to be clean if we give them the chance. Take that largest tin basin, Fritz, fill it with water, dip this dust brush in it, and wash him. It will answer almost as well as if he were put in a tub. See, he seems to understand what I am saying and wags his tail as if to say, 'yes, little mother, all animals love a bath, and would be clean if given the chance.'"
The boys hurried away and gave Pixy his bath which he certainly enjoyed, and had just finished when Mrs. Steiner called them to breakfast. They were about to take their places when Mrs. Steiner asked Fritz if he had not forgotten something.
"No, Aunt Steiner, I cannot think of anything that I have forgotten," he said.
"Go back to the kitchen, dear, and you will see Pixy's dish with bits of bread in it, softened and made richer by having some of the sausage gravy upon it. He smelled it, as did you while it was cooking, and we must not disappoint him. Go set his breakfast on the porch for him, and then we will have ours."
This was done, and all took seats, the blessing was asked, and then Mrs. Steiner in her pleasant way called attention to the pure white linen tablecloth.
"You see, boys," she said, "that it is white and spotless; and you perhaps do not know how much labor there is in placing even one piece of washing in this fine condition. Now, I wish one of you to pour the coffee, and pass the cups around without spilling any."
"Let me pour it, Aunt Fanny," said Fritz, and he poured a cupful for each person and passed it without spilling a drop, while Aunt Steiner served the sausage.
Then Fritz poured his own coffee, and in passing it to his place he noticed a tiny stain at Paul's plate. Immediately a discussion arose between them as to who was to blame in the matter.
"Never mind," said Mrs. Steiner soothingly, "I am satisfied that the whole cup of coffee has not flowed over the cloth. We will cover the stain with the mantle of love and charity in the shape of a clean napkin."
It was such a satisfaction to Fritz to see it hidden that he was ready to ask a question.
"Aunt Fanny," he said, "where are we to go to-day?"
"Every place is new to you, and you can go where you prefer, but on horses that do not eat oats."
The boys understood that she meant that they must go on foot; and were well satisfied.
"Our horse at home eats oats," remarked Franz, "and loves sugar. Every morning, when papa is ready to ride to the forest mamma goes to the gate with him, with a lump of sugar for Betty, and always says, 'Now, Betty, be a good little horse to-day and bring your master safely home to his wife and children this evening. Do you understand?' and she does really seem to understand and neighs gently as much as to say 'I will.'"
"Can you go out alone, do you think, or do you wish me to go with you?" asked Mrs. Steiner when breakfast was finished.
"I am sure we could go alone," replied Fritz. "If we get lost we will ask the way to 37 Bornheimer street."
They put on their straw hats for the march, and Pixy, who evidently thought that they were going home, sprang up in delight, and was so full of frolic that Fritz could scarcely fasten the cord to his collar.
"Now, are you going out without one of you thinking of something you have left undone?" asked Mrs. Steiner gently. "Will you not write one line to your parents to tell them of your safe arrival?"
"Yes, truly we forgot it," and the three looked at each other, then laid aside their hats. Fritz ran to his satchel for paper and envelopes, but his aunt told him that post-cards would be sufficient and supplied them with three, saying that they could write letters later.
"Would it not be better to wait and get scenery cards?" asked the thoughtful Paul; "scenes of something we will see while we are out to-day?"
"No, write now, and just a few words that your parents may get them this evening. It may perhaps save them sleepless nights."
The triplets sat down immediately to the business of writing home. Franz wrote so large that he could only get upon it the few words: "My dear father and mother and sister: We got safely to Frankfort last evening."
Fritz, with his usual frugality, used but a third part of his postal, and Paul took the middle course, and neatly filled his card.
CHAPTER V
FRITZ IN TROUBLE
When the boys had finished writing their postals, they bade Mrs. Steiner good morning and set out to see what they could of Frankfort without a helper, and their first aim was to find a letter box. They had nearly reached one when Franz noticed that he had not written the address upon his postal. He saw no remedy but to go back and mount the long flight of steps to correct his mistake. But a gentleman who was also about to post a letter comforted him by the assurance that his parents would receive it if the address were written with a pencil, and loaned him one, to the great satisfaction of the whole party.
"And now, my boy," added the gentleman when they heard the postal rattle into the box, "remember to always direct a letter, postal or package clearly, and correctly and then look again at the address before dropping it into the box."
The triplets promised to remember, and the gentleman bade them good-bye, and hurried down the street.
"Now, where will we go first?" inquired Fritz.
"I think the zoological garden would be the best place," suggested Paul, but Fritz had set his heart upon seeing soldiers, for in their home neighborhood they saw a soldier only now and then when home upon a furlough; but a regiment, or a company even, they had never seen. So they walked along the street some distance hoping to see a drill, having read of drills and maneuvers in their story books.
"Look! There comes an officer," exclaimed Franz, as a corporal came walking along in a stately, dignified manner, and the delighted boys took off their hats and bowed low to him.
The young man was not at all flattered by this attention, believing that the country boys were making fun of him; but his angry stare was positive proof to the triplets that he was some great man, Fritz deciding that he was a general.
"But if he were a general, he would ride upon a splendid horse. He would not walk," remarked Paul.
"But he would walk sometimes," insisted Fritz, and at that moment they met a drummer, and again the boys doffed their hats and bowed low.
"If I were a soldier, I would be a drummer," decided Fritz. "No instrument makes such beautiful music as a drum; and a person must understand music to be a drummer."
"But a captain is greater than a drummer," said Paul, "and a general is greater than a captain."
"Yes, people say so, but if you notice, it is the drummer who leads the way. All the others have to follow him. I always think of a verse that tells exactly what I think. Shall I say it to you?"
"Yes, if it is not too long," replied both of his companions, and Fritz repeated it.
"My comrades envy me, I know,
They can deny it not;
For drummer of the regiment
Has been my happy lot.
"And at a tap, or drum's loud beat
The soldiers follow me;
The general, even, has no choice,
He follows, too, you see.
"But if it had not been my lot
To be a drummer boy
Then I would be a General;
But not with half the joy."
"He was right!" agreed the boys, "and when we are soldiers we will be drummers."
Chatting amicably, they reached the beautiful flower-bordered walks where they had been the evening before, and sat down under the shade of a great linden to watch the swan swimming about in the lake. They had scarcely been seated when a soldier passed and again the triplets raised their hats, and some street boys who were playing near raised a shout of derision.
"Look at the country boobies taking off their hats to a common soldier!" they cried, and gathered about the three with mocking laughter and jeers.
"Where did you come from to be so green?" asked one of them.
"There is no need for you to know, therefore no need for us to tell you," answered Franz.
"See the hayseeds who come here and think they know it all! I will take this hat and keep it until its owner tells me what I asked," and he grasped Paul's hat, intending to run, but Paul was too quick for him, for he lay hold of the boy's arm, and got his hat.
This was just what the rough street urchins wanted, and they gathered about the three; pushed against Odysseus-Fritz, Achilles-Franz and Patroclus-Paul, and as no policeman was near, they would have mastered the three peaceable, well-bred boys, but at that moment Pixy, who had been watching the game, sprang in the midst of the melee, grasped the sleeve of one of the boys, snarling savagely, as if he were a terribly dangerous dog, indeed. The frightened boy tore himself loose with such force that he fell to the ground and Pixy, as though scorning to attack a fallen enemy, grasped the seat of the pants of another boy, tore a piece out, which released the boy, and he and the others ran as fast as their feet would carry them from such a dangerous locality. Pixy followed their hasty flight, barking vigorously, and would have made another attack had not Fritz called him back. The three Grecian heroes petted and praised him, and he wagged his tail for joy, and capered about them as much as to say, "Didn't I make them fly!"
Yet prouder was his young master, and he could not help reminding his comrades that he was not so foolish after all in bringing his dog to Frankfort, to which they agreed, for they felt much relieved at the scatterment of the rough and violent street urchins.
"But," continued Fritz, "it will be better for us to leave here, for these rough boys may collect a larger company and come back and fight us; and as brave as Pixy is, he might not be able to manage them all."
"Say, boys," exclaimed Franz after they had walked some distance, "we will not raise our hats to every soldier that happens along. That is why the street boys made fun of us. It would be all right if we only knew a General should he come along for then it would certainly be good form to raise our hats to him. But we don't know, so we won't raise our hats to any man in uniform," advised Franz. All agreeing to this decision, they passed on to the business part of the city, Pixy trotting near them, his young master holding fast to his rope.
"Just see that splendid clothing-house made of glass and iron, and filled from basement to roof with beautiful suits of clothing of all kinds," said Fritz delightedly. "A man could go in there in a morning-gown, and come out in a quarter of an hour dressed like a gentleman from head to foot. Father told me of a splendid clothing-house here in Frankfort, and this must be the one. Let us go in and see it."
"But we cannot take Pixy in," said thoughtful Paul. "Surely they would not allow dogs in that beautiful place."
"No," replied Fritz, "you boys may go in first, and I will stay here with Pixy. After you have been through the building you can stay with him while I go."
Franz and Paul hurried in, and Fritz stood by the great glass front, and examined with the eyes of an experienced clothing merchant the elegant cloth garments hanging within.
"They are wonderfully cheap," he said to himself as he considered the cards upon them. "We could not afford to sell them at that price. But then who knows whether they are well made? If I were going to buy them, I would examine them well before paying any money for them."
So the future clothing merchant chatted to himself, and did not take notice that a tall, handsomely dressed and gentlemanly-looking stranger was gazing upon him with a smile of benevolent good-comradeship, and at length spoke to him.
"You appear to be a stranger here, my young friend," he said in a winning tone, and he lifted his glossy silk hat as he spoke.
"Yes, sir; I was never in Frankfort before; and came only yesterday."
"Then I am sure that there is much to see and to hear that will be new to you."
"Yes, for I came from the country, and this is the first city I have ever seen."
"But can you enjoy it so well alone?"
"I am not alone; two of my classmates are with me. They have gone into this clothing house, and when they come back they will hold my dog and I will go."
"Then I will remain with you until they come, for I love the company of young people. I will also be a protection to you, for there are many bad characters in a great city."
"Yes, I have read and heard of them and it is very kind in you to stay. I have read in our newspapers of the cunning rogues, and I am on the lookout for them. My comrades could be more easily deceived than I, for I am quite sure that I would know one the moment I saw him; and would like to see one."
"Your reply proves to me that you are intelligent and thoughtful beyond your years, and certainly have no need of anyone to protect you, for you can take care of yourself. I wish other boys would read more about these light-fingered people and they would be on their guard. Now you might be seeing something while you are waiting for your friends. We might walk about the square and they will see us when they come out of the store, for we will keep in sight of it."
Fritz was pleased with this proposal and walked slowly along with his new acquaintance, who pointed out with his cane objects of interest and at times laid his hand on the boy's shoulder like an affectionate father, and Fritz felt perfectly at home with him.
At length they reached a tall column upon which was pasted many bills and placards.
"Have you read this?" asked the new acquaintance, pointing to one of them with his cane.
"No, sir."
"Well now, read it aloud."
"Way to the Zoological Aquarium," repeated Fritz.
"Now this one."
"Beware of pick-pockets."
"It is good advice. I must see if I have my money," and he touched his pocket; his example followed by Fritz.
"Yes, mine is all right yet. How is it with yours, my dear young friend? I hope your money is in a safe place, that is, if you have any with you?"
"Yes, I have two dollars and some small money; but better than all, I have a gold piece that I keep in the safest place in my pocketbook. I am not intending to spend it for I have enough without it, but my father said that one ought to have more money with him than he thinks he will need."
"Your father is evidently a kind and sensible man."
"Yes, he certainly is. He told me to keep my nickels in my vest pocket that I need not take out my pocketbook when with strangers."
"That is true in most cases, my boy, but from long experience in living in a city I would advise that you put it all in one place. If all your money is in your pocketbook you can guard it much better than if your attention was divided by having to guard two places."
Fritz took the advice and his nickels to the value of two marks were taken from his vest pocket and put in his purse, and the purse returned to the pocket of his pants.
"Now that is right, and you may thank this notice which has warned you. Just see how easily one expert pick-pocket could have gotten your money had you not been warned," and he showed Fritz how it could be done.
Pixy had kept his eyes upon the stranger and when he saw his hand glide down to the pocket, he gave a low growl.
"Be quiet, Pixy!" said his master. "Don't you know a friend from an enemy? Excuse my dog's bad manners, please; he is not in a good humor. Some street boys attacked us, and he had to fight them off."
"Don't say a word, my dear boy. He is a faithful servant. If he is jealous of a friend, he would have a still sharper eye upon an enemy if one should happen along. Now, Pixy, good, brave dog, eat this piece of candy, and let us be friends."
He took the candy from his vest pocket and offered it, but Pixy scorned the gift, and gave an angry growl.
"Oh well, doggie, I will not trouble you any longer," and he put the candy back in his pocket. "Now I must away. Bye-bye, my boy, and beware—of—pick-pockets," and he disappeared around the corner.
Pixy sprang up to follow, but the boy called him back.
"Franz was right, Pixy, when he said you have no sense," complained Fritz, as the dog continued to give dissatisfied growls. "You don't know a kind, good man from a thief and dislike him only because he is a stranger. Yes," he said to himself, as he walked along back to the store, "it was real kind in him to warn me, for he did not know but I was a stupid country boy who had never heard of pocket-took thieves. I would like to see a thief that could put his hand in my pocket without my knowing it. Stupid people are yet to be found, for with all the reports of thieves in the papers, there are people who allow themselves to be robbed, but they are generally women. People like me would know a thief the moment they saw him."
By this time he had reached the store, and wondered what kept the boys so long within.
"They forgot that I am waiting outside," he said to himself, "and I am terribly hungry. There is a bakery across the street. I will run over and buy a roll."
No sooner said than done; he ran across, and the odor of fresh bread, cakes and pretzels filled the place. He bought a roll, and took a bite while feeling in his pocket for his purse.
"Oh, it is gone!" he cried, turning pale with distress.
"Put your hand in your other pocket," said the saleswoman. "It may be there."
This was quickly done, but it was not to be found.
"I don't believe you had any money," said the woman, angrily, "but took that planning to get the roll without paying for it. I will call a policeman."
"Oh, please don't!" cried the boy, with tears streaming down his cheeks,
"I will pay you when I see my aunt. She is Mrs. Fanny Steiner, number 37
Bornheimer street."
"Yes, now I believe that you are telling me the exact truth that you had money and have lost it."
"No, I did not lose it; it was stolen from me by a man who warned me against thieves."
"Then I should certainly call a policeman that you may have a chance of getting your money by giving a description of the pick-pocket."
"Oh no, please don't call him. I am afraid of a policeman, and don't want to see one."
"But why? That is foolish of you. They are our protectors. Only bad boys need fear them; honest people are glad to call upon them in trouble."
"There comes Franz and Paul out of the clothing store," and he ran to the door and called them, and they came across the street and into the bakery.
"What are you crying about?" asked Franz. "Have the street boys been fighting you while we were in the store?"
"No, I wish it had been the rude, ill-mannered rabble instead of the polite, kind-appearing gentleman who was a thief and stole my money. I am so ashamed that I was deceived by his pleasant words. Besides, I have bought a roll and cannot pay for it."
"Oh, that is all right!" said his companions, taking out their pocketbooks. "Here is your money for it, lady, and we will each buy a roll."
"Come, Fritz," said Paul as he took a bite out of his roll, "eat your roll and come with us. It is no use to stay here."
"Oh, my hunger is gone, and how can I forget my loss when I need my money every day?"
"But what is the use of fretting over it?" said Franz, impatiently. "The money is gone, and crying will not bring it back, so you may as well make the best of it."
"Yes, Franz, it is easy for you to talk that way when you have your money in your pocket. But mine is gone. Even the few nickels that were in my vest pocket were taken by the miserable thief," and tears streamed from the boy's eyes.
"I do feel sorry for you," said the saleswoman. "Had you much money in your pocketbook?"
"Yes, I had two silver dollars and a ten-mark gold piece with the face of Kaiser Frederick upon it. My father got it in trade, and he put it on the Christmas tree for me. It was new and bright and beautiful, and now it is gone. Besides I had two marks, and the nickels in my vest pocket—and—"
"What is the use of calling them all over?" complained Franz. "This is the third time you have called them. They will not come back like tame birds that know their names."
"Just think of the lines we repeat in school: 'Happy are we if we forget what we cannot change,'" Paul said by way of comfort.
"Yes, Paul, that is all right when people are not in trouble, but it will not bring back my beautiful, bright gold-piece and my—"
"It was not very smart of you to allow yourself to be robbed," rejoined Paul quickly. "No thief would have gotten the chance to fool me that way. I would not have been so friendly with a strange man as to allow him the chance to get his fingers in my pocket."
"Oh, Paul! you think you are very wise, but you would have been taken in just as I was by his smooth, sleek speech. The rascal was so pleasant and kind! It is a lesson to me, but that does not bring my money back; oh, my gold-piece, and my two dollars—boo—hoo—hoo—"
"Oh, do be quiet!" warned Franz. "Don't you see that people are gathering about the door?"
"Yes, you are right; I will be quiet, but we must go back now to Aunt
Fanny's. I have had enough of Frankfort for one day."
To this the others agreed, but when they left the bakery they went in the wrong direction, and had gone many squares before they realized their mistake.
"Yes, you are going exactly in the opposite direction from 37 Bornheimer street," said a policeman whom they accosted. "Face about and enquire of policemen and postmen whom you meet, and in time you will get there."
This they did and when they reached 37, Mrs. Steiner was on the porch looking for them. They ran up the steps and Franz and Paul left explanations to Fritz, who fell upon her neck weeping, and sobbing, "Oh, Aunt Fanny, it is gone, all gone!"
"What is gone? Tell me, my little Fritz. You frighten me."
"My pocketbook, with my beautiful, bright gold-piece with the picture of Kaiser Frederick on it, and my two hard dollars, and my two mark-pieces—and my nickels; all are gone!"
"But, my pet, suppose you have lost your pocketbook, that is not saying that it cannot be found. There are plenty of honest people in the world who would be glad to return it if they could find the owner. We will search the papers and we may see in the 'found' column that some one has it, and will give it up to you."
"But, aunt, it is not an honest person but a thief who has it. I had no idea that anybody could steal from me," and he poured forth the whole story, concluding with, "Oh, my beautiful, bright gold-piece, with the face of Kaiser Frederick upon it!"
"Stolen! Dear Fritz, that is an entirely different thing from being lost. I, too, would never have thought of you allowing yourself to be robbed, for you spoke of reading so much about pick-pockets. It is evident that your dog was a better judge than his master. He had no confidence in the man, while you almost gave him your pocketbook."
"Oh, Aunt, don't remind me of that! I know it too well myself."
"No, dear, and I am sorry for your loss, and hope it will not make you lose confidence in your fellow-men. For one thief in the world there are thousands of honest people, but in a strange city and in a crowd one can be on guard without hurting the feelings of any stranger. Now I will hurry to the police station and give the information. No doubt you are not the only one the rascal has robbed, but if I can help it you will be the last, for a time at least. Franz, my boy, go to the kitchen and stir the beans. Stir quietly all the time I am gone. The soup and the veal roast are ready, and we can eat as soon as I come back, which will be in a few minutes."
She threw a little, fleecy shawl over her head and ran down the steps as lightly as a girl of fifteen. The boys in the meantime were in the kitchen, Fritz being so comforted by his aunt's sympathy and help that he could turn his attention to the dinner.
"This is pea-soup," he said, "and I certainly like it. Do you, Paul?"
"Yes, and the veal and the beans are good."
"But I could enjoy them all more if I had not lost my money. Oh, my beautiful gold-piece with the—"
"Likeness of Kaiser Frederick upon it," finished Franz. "Oh, Fritz, do give us a rest! It is gone, and if you tell it a thousand times, it will not make the thief bring it back and put it in your pocket. No, the rogue will have many good meals with its help, and the money will find its way into many pockets."
"Yes, that is what makes me feel so badly about it. I tried to save every penny of it and now it is gone! No wonder that you can feel cheerful! you have your money, but I—"
At that moment his Aunt Fanny returned, and brought some cheer with her.
"While the police have no clue to the thief," she slid, "as no one saw the theft committed, yet they will take every means to trap him. And now, Fritz, don't grieve any more. You shall not feel the need of money if I can help it, for when you want it you shall have it. Now we will take the meat and other things to the table, but first I must fix Pixy's plate."
This was done and Fritz carried it to the porch, then they took seats at the table, their plates were filled and a dish of the pea-soup was at each plate. The kind little hostess was glad to see that they ate heartily and enjoyed their dinner. As she glanced at Fritz she said to herself: "Thank goodness that it was his money that was lost instead of his appetite. That would be a far worse loss than even his gold-piece."
Roast veal, potatoes, beans and lettuce disappeared like mist, and before they arose from the table she said: "Boys, is your hunger entirely satisfied?"
"Perfectly satisfied!" was the unanimous response.
"Oh, what a pity!" she said, as if reflecting.
"Why a pity, Aunt Fanny?" asked Fritz.
"Because I have a basket of fine ripe cherries in the cupboard which I intended for dessert. But as you are satisfied, I suppose we must wait for another time."
The young guests looked crestfallen, and for a time were silent; then
Franz came to the rescue with the right word.
"Cherries," he remarked, "have so much juice that I do not know that they could be called food. Instead, I would say that they are more like drink."