But now she absolutely yelled.
"Good gracious, what does it all mean?" I thought, and fidgeted about in impatient despair.
"It's not my fault," she started at last. "I had—I was to—it was the little Jagemann—she gave me the little book, and the big Jagemann gave me a cake—to eat on my way, and then it happened"
I rushed forward and seized my hat. The child took her left hand out of the handkerchief, and stretched out the soiled pocket-book to me.
"Couldn't help it, it was a nasty boy—he pushed me, and then the little book fell—into a pool—ugh! in Dibbels-walder Square—ugh!"
I hastened to find a silver coin, which I pushed into her small wet hand, and flew out at the door past the servant and the coal-heaver, whose laughter followed me down the stairs.
In a few minutes—how precious they all were now!—I reached Seilergasse.
