"Oh, you innocent lambs," she said laughingly, "of course neither of you did it, so it must be that little man on the clock face who stepped down to break a plate. Or perhaps it was the dog; he is hiding his face between his feet as if ashamed to look up."

"No, no, Aunt f.a.n.n.y, it was not my Pixy," exclaimed Fritz, "I will take all the blame upon myself."

"It was partly my fault," echoed Franz, "and I am sorry that the plate is broken."

"So am I," rejoined Fritz, "and I will pay for it."

"Hear him, offering to pay for it," laughed Mrs. Steiner, "when he has no money. Never mind, my boy, you need not pay for the plate. I have plenty more, and here is a mark to put in your empty purse."

"But, Aunt f.a.n.n.y, my purse is not empty," and he told of the nickels given him by Uncle Braun.

"It was kind in him to take you out; and he is very generous in every way. Now pick up the pieces of plate, and put them upon this waiter and then we will set the table and have supper."

This was done, and while his aunt was out of the room Fritz took out one of the pink plates, put the cake upon it and set it in the middle of the table. It was a great surprise to her and she was gratified that they remembered her while they were out, and said so, whereupon the conscientious boys would not let her remain in ignorance of the fact that it was Uncle Braun who suggested it.

"Well, it is no matter who first thought of it," she said cheerfully, "you boys used your money to prepare a surprise for me. We will cut it in four parts and it will make a fine dessert."

The boys insisted that she should keep it all for herself, but she said she would enjoy her part more when all had a share, so they did not refuse it.

"Now, boys, tell me something of your afternoon," said Mrs. Steiner, and each vied with the others to describe what they had seen. Fritz contributed his share of it by telling of his wish that he could find a gold-piece on the street, and what Uncle Braun said in regard to it, ending with "Oh, my new, bright, gold-piece with the--"

"Oh, dear, are we again to hear that cry?" grumbled Franz. "You are like Hannibal weeping upon the ruins of Carthage."

"You have not lost any gold-piece, and you are wrong about Hannibal; it was Scipio who wept on the ruins of Carthage."

"You are both wrong," corrected Paul, "it was Marius who wept upon the ruins of Carthage. Wasn't it, Aunt Steiner?"

"My dear boy, I have forgotten much that I once knew of ancient history, but I think that Hannibal was a great Carthagenian general who fought the Romans. Whether he wept or not over the ruins of Carthage I cannot say; but I do know that you boys are tired and sleepy and the sooner you get to bed the better. Go now, don't forget to say your prayers; and Fritz, see that your head keeps on the pillow of the lounge and not on the chair beside it."

CHAPTER VII

THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS

The next morning just as Mrs. Steiner and her guests had finished breakfast the doorbell rang, and she went to the door, opened it but drew back startled, when she saw a tall policeman.

"Why are you here?" she asked anxiously.

"It is a strange thing that people seem frightened as if fearing arrest when we come to their doors," he said in a kindly tone. "They should look upon us as protectors against thieves and other evil-doers, yet they seem to look upon us as enemies."

"Yes," said Mrs. Steiner pleasantly, "one cannot deny that when a policeman comes it seems to signify trouble."

"Well, I am not bringing trouble. I only came to enquire if there is a boy here named Fritz."

"Yes, Fritz is here. He is my brother's son, and is visiting me."

The boys had heard all and made a rush for the door, where they stood behind Mrs. Steiner, gazing with intense interest at the tall, dark man who had such piercing black eyes and a moustache so large that Fritz told his aunt afterward that it looked as if a blackbird had lighted upon his upper lip and spread its wings under his nose.

"Now, which one of these boys is Fritz?" he asked.

"This one," said the aunt, turning to the boy, who was doing his best to hide Pixy from the eyes of the law. But Pixy was not willing to be obscured. He did not like the looks of the man, and gave one of his low growls.

"Call your dog away, boy, I have no business with him, although he has no tag. However that is no harm, so long as he stays in the house. Now, Fritz, what is your other name?"

"Fritz Heil. My father is a clothing merchant, and his store--"

"I do not have need to know of him. Did you lose a pocketbook yesterday?"

"No, it was stolen from me."

"Well, I came to take you to the police commissioner."

"Aunt, has the policeman arrested me?" asked the boy, clinging to his aunt's arm.

"You are not under arrest, boy," laughed the man. "You are only wanted as witness. We hope to catch the thief. Now forward, march."

"Yes, Fritz, go and do what you can to help. Do you think you can find your way back?"

"I will see that he gets back all right, madam," and down the steps they went, Franz and Paul looking after them until they disappeared from view.

Fritz was received so kindly by the police commissioner that he felt entirely at ease.

"So you were robbed, my little man. How did the churl look who picked your pocket?"

"Oh, he was no churl, but a pleasant gentleman with a soft voice."

"Yes, we know this pleasant gentleman. How was he dressed the day you saw him?"

"He wore a tall silk hat, a black broadcloth coat and vest, and although it was a warm day, he had on a fine thin overcoat."

"Entirely right. You describe him well as to clothing. Now about his face and form?"

"He was tall and slender, had a smooth face, black hair and black eyes that looked quickly about him like a squirrel, and he had a scar over his left eye."

"Exactly! Now tell me about your pocketbook."

"My mother gave it to me at Christmas, and--"

"There is no need to tell me that, my son."

"Yes, there is need, because in it is a tiny card on which is written 'To my loved Fritz, from his mother; Christmas.'"

"Oh, it is well to know this. Describe the pocketbook."

"It is of red leather, and has a bright clasp, and upon it I scratched 'Fritz' with my pocket knife."