“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!”