“Yes,” I said timidly. “That’s all I have⁠—it’s too little, I know, but it’s all. I haven’t any more.”

“I thought you were cleverer than that,” he exclaimed, blaming me in what were almost mild terms. “Between men of honor there must be honest dealing. I will not take anything from you, except what is right. You know that. Take your pfennigs back, there! The other⁠—you know who⁠—doesn’t try to beat me down. He pays.”

“But I have absolutely nothing else. That was my money box.”

“That’s your affair. But I don’t want to make you unhappy. You still owe me one mark thirty-five pfennig. When can I have it?”

“Oh, you will soon have it, certainly, Kromer. I don’t know yet⁠—perhaps tomorrow, or the day after, I shall have some more. You understand that I can’t tell my father, don’t you?”