"Yes," said Fritz, eagerly; "we learned to make coffee, and to cook potatoes and other things. My aunt let us help her."
"That was good; people ought to learn everything that comes in their way. Now tell us what you saw in Frankfort."
Nothing could have been pleasanter to the triplets than to live over again those hours of sight-seeing, and all three helped tell of their visit.
"Now listen to this," said the landlord, who had picked up a Frankfort paper:
"An Englishman lost his pocketbook on Saturday evening in the grounds of the Forest-house, in the suburbs of Frankfort. It contained valuable papers and money, and was found by a young man named Pixy from the Odenwald country, and delivered to the owner."
The landlord and his wife laughed at the mistake of the reporter until tears stood in their eyes; and then the three boys repeated the story again, and told of the English cousin, and of Uncle Braun, and ended by saying that they felt that they knew everybody and every place in Frankfort.
When they put on their knapsacks to depart, each took out his purse to pay their bill.
"Oh, no, boys," said the landlord, "I cannot take pay for your very plain dinner. You were our guests and were not the least trouble."
"Oh, thank you! thank you!" they said in concert, and Paul voiced the opinion of all, when he said that had they ordered it, they could not have gotten anything they would have enjoyed more.
The three then took generous tips from their purses, and put the money in the hand of their host.