"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