“What stuff!” said Blasi, dryly.  “You are paid for your cobbling; you are better off than I am.  I haven’t a rap, and am in debt besides.  I was going to ask you if you couldn’t lend me a franc.  You have money, I know.”

“Oh yes, you sleepy-head!  It’s very likely I have money for you, when I’m in such need of it myself!  Go ask Dietrich; he has his pockets full, and a big heap besides.  But don’t be such a fool as to ask him for just one mean little franc; ask for five.  I’ll use two or three of them; tell him you’ll pay him again in a week.”

Blasi seemed rather undecided.

“I should have gone to him long ago,” he said, “but his mother is always about, and she looks at a fellow as a bird does when somebody is trying to rob her nest.  I’m afraid of her.”

“Poh! it’s all right enough to borrow a little money if you’re going to pay it back again.  Don’t be a fool!  Go along!” and Jost enforced his advise with an emphatic shove that sent Blasi rolling along much faster than he wished to go.  He grumbled a little at this unpleasant style of progression, and muttered between his teeth,

“He’s no right to treat me so; I’m as good as he is, any day.”

When he reached Gertrude’s garden, he stood still and looked over the hedge.  Dietrich’s mother was there, planting her vegetable bed.  He sauntered back and forth for awhile, and when he saw her go to the other corner of the garden, he thought he could now get without being seen, into the room where he heard Dietrich whistling at his work.  He went round the garden, and was just going in at the back gate, when he came plump against Gertrude.  He went by quickly as if he had had no idea of going in; and then hung about watching his chance, but as time did not stand still while he waited, it was bye-and-bye eleven o’clock, and he had to go off to ring the noon bell.

In the afternoon, neighbor Judith was hoeing in her little garden.  Blasi stood hesitating in his door-way, and then came out and stood watching her at her work.

“I am always surprised, Blasi,” said Judith, looking up from her work, “to see you in company with a fellow, who steals your money from your pockets, before you know it is there.  I would not have anything to do with such a one.”

“What? who?” asked Blasi, fumbling in his empty pockets.  “Who picks my pockets?  Who are you talking about?  I know I did have some; I wish you would tell me the thief.”

“I’ll tell no tales,” said Judith, working away.

“Bah! tell me, won’t you?  A fellow can’t defend himself unless he knows who is attacking him,” growled Blasi.  “You might say who you mean.”

“Well, I will.  Go and take him by the ear.  His name is Idleness!” As Judith spoke, she raised her head, and looked Blasi full in the face; then she bent to her work again.

The lad was angry.  He had hoped that he was going to get something back of which he had been robbed, and that Judith would help him as she had been a witness of the theft.