"Oh, boys, don't worry. Your fathers have taken many a dinner here, and, God willing, will take many more. All I ask of you is to take my advice by going to the station and taking the train for Frankfort. If you go now you will be in good time to catch the afternoon train for Frankfort. Now good-bye and a pleasant journey!"
The three boys shouldered their knapsacks, Fritz still wearing his rain-coat, although the sun shone brightly, and went through the market place on their way to the station, Pixy in the lead carrying a bone that Letta had given him after he finished his dinner, while the family gathered on the porch and watched their slow movements with tears of mirth in their eyes.
They had intended walking to Frankfort for two reasons. It would be something of an exploit to relate to their schoolfellows, and it would save money; but slow as they traveled to the station, the train seemed to have waited for them for they were in ample time.
"Do you wish single fares, or return tickets?" asked the clerk.
This was a question which could not be settled too quickly. The boys held a consultation, and Fritz gave the deciding opinion.
"If we buy a return ticket," he explained, "we will save money, but we may want to walk back, and then would have to lose what we pay for a return ticket. Besides, if we did not want to ride home, some one of us, or it may be all of us, might lose our return ticket, and Aunt Fanny would insist giving us money for tickets which we would not wish her to do. No, we will take single fares."
They bought them, and were about to step into a car when they were stopped by the conductor.
"Where is your ticket for the dog?" he asked.
"Must I have a ticket for him?" asked the boy, in surprise.
"I should say so! You must be a kindergarten youngster to ask such a question. Moreover, if anybody in the car objects to having him in there, you will have to take him in a freight car even if you have a ticket for him."