“That’s the way to remain poor. To keep everything that is old, avoid everything that is new. Do you know, Brother Sebastian, you are just the same as Buda....”
“And you are just like Pest,” retorted Sebastian modestly.
They smiled at each other quietly.
Anne meanwhile was playing at the tool table and dropping wheels and watch-springs into the oil bottle.
Uncle Sebastian did not want to spoil her pleasure but watched every movement of hers anxiously. When the child noticed that she was observed, she withdrew her hand suddenly. She stared innocently at the walls.
“I am bored,” she said sadly, “I don’t know what to do. Do tell me a story.”
“I don’t know any to-day,” said Uncle Sebastian.
“You always know some for you read such a lot....” While saying this she drew from the pocket of Uncle Sebastian’s coat a well-worn little green book.
“Demokritos, or the posthumous writings of a laughing philosopher.” This was Sebastian Ulwing’s favorite book.
“Here you are!” cried Anne, waving her prey triumphantly. “Now come along, tell me a story.”