“To no one now. Josenhans was my father.”
“What! The Josenhans that worked with Farmer Rodel?”
“Yes.”
“I knew him well. It was hard that he must die so early. Wait, child, I will give you something.” He drew a great leather purse from his pocket, and felt a long time within it, and said at last,
“See, take that.”
“I do not take any presents, I thank you. I take nothing.”
“Take it. Of me you can certainly take something. Is not Farmer Rodel your guardian?”
“Yes. Well?”
“He should have known better than to make you a goose-herd. God bless thee!”
The carriage rolled on, and Amrie held the money in her hand. “‘Of me you can certainly take something!’ Who, then, is the man who said that, and why did he not make himself known? Eh! This is a groschen. There is the bird upon it. Well, it will not make him poor, nor me rich.”