"Good father Karnis, give me a little of your wealth; five poor little
drachmae!"

The old man started; but he instantly recovered himself and answered
good-naturedly enough:

"Go back to bed, you little hussy. You ought to be asleep instead of
listening there!"

"Asleep?" said the girl. "While you are shouting like an orator against
the wind! Five drachmae, father. I stick to that. A new ribband for me
will cost one, and the same for Agne, two. Two I will spend on wine for
us all, and that makes the five."

"That makes four--you are a great arithmetician to be sure!"

"Four?" said Dada, as much amazed as though the moon had fallen. "If
only I had a counting-frame. No, father, five I tell you--it is five."

"No, child, four; and you shall have four," replied her father. "Plutus
is at the door and to-morrow morning you shall both have garlands."

"Yes, of violets, ivy and roses," added Dame Herse. "Is Agne asleep?"

"As sound as the dead. She always sleeps soundly unless she lies wide
awake all the night through. But we were both so tired--and I am still.
It is a comfort to yawn. Do you see how I am sitting?"

"On the clothes-chest?" said Herse.