"I do not know anything yet," said Johannes, a little more boldly.
"Neither do we," said the slovenly girl. "Do you, Bet?"
"I know that he is a darn good fellow," answered Bet.
"They do say, though, that he is not good," said another work-woman.
"True, he may not be good—but good he is, I say," retorted Bet.
This sounded a bit obscure, but Johannes understood it perfectly well.
"He has more sense than all four of you put together," said the bar-woman, indignantly. "I have seen, with my own eyes, how the little daughter of Sannes, the Plumber, who had been given up by as many as four doctors because there was not a ghost of a chance for her,—how she was taken by Markus on his lap, when all the phlegm came loose; and only yesterday, I saw her with her mother, running in front of the booths."
"And the other day," said the slatternly girl, "when that tall Knelis at the vegetable market was drunk again—you know that common brawler with the white flap on his cap—well, he just took him gently by the wing, home to his old woman; and the fellow went along, as meek as a booby tied to his mother's apron-string."
In this way, one story suggested another, and Johannes soon learned how much his Guide was liked and esteemed among performers, showmen, workmen, day-laborers—yes, even by the shopkeepers and tavern-keepers, although he was a poor customer.
"What does he really do?" asked Johannes.