"While the police have no clue to the thief," she slid, "as no one saw the theft committed, yet they will take every means to trap him. And now, Fritz, don't grieve any more. You shall not feel the need of money if I can help it, for when you want it you shall have it. Now we will take the meat and other things to the table, but first I must fix Pixy's plate."
This was done and Fritz carried it to the porch, then they took seats at the table, their plates were filled and a dish of the pea-soup was at each plate. The kind little hostess was glad to see that they ate heartily and enjoyed their dinner. As she glanced at Fritz she said to herself: "Thank goodness that it was his money that was lost instead of his appetite. That would be a far worse loss than even his gold-piece."
Roast veal, potatoes, beans and lettuce disappeared like mist, and before they arose from the table she said: "Boys, is your hunger entirely satisfied?"
"Perfectly satisfied!" was the unanimous response.
"Oh, what a pity!" she said, as if reflecting.
"Why a pity, Aunt Fanny?" asked Fritz.
"Because I have a basket of fine ripe cherries in the cupboard which I intended for dessert. But as you are satisfied, I suppose we must wait for another time."
The young guests looked crestfallen, and for a time were silent; then
Franz came to the rescue with the right word.
"Cherries," he remarked, "have so much juice that I do not know that they could be called food. Instead, I would say that they are more like drink."
"Franz, you are a born lawyer," laughed Aunt Fanny. "You certainly deserve a fee for that brilliant opinion. As you say that you are satisfied that you have sufficient food, you may bring in a fresh drink in the shape of ripe, red cherries."