was of it! Even those Christmas-boxes
you used to receive, I knew of them; and it was my sugar and coffee that
the little Anton drank. When your worthy father came to us and asked for
a situation for you, it was I who persuaded my brother to take you; for
Traugott asked me about it, he himself objecting, and thinking you were
too old. But I begged for you, and from that time my brother always
called you my apprentice. It was I who promised your father to take care
of you here. I was but an inexperienced child myself, and the confidence
of a stranger enchanted me. Your father, good old gentleman, would not
wear, while with us, the velvet cap that peeped out of his pocket, till
I drew it out and put it on his white curls; and then I wondered whether
my apprentice would have such beautiful curls too. And when you came,
and all were pleased with you, and my brother pronounced you the best of
all his clerks, I was as proud of you as your good father could have
been."

Anton leaned on the desk, and hid his face with his hands.

"And that day when Fink insulted you, and again after that boating
excursion, I was angry with him, not only for his presumption, but
because he had taken my true apprentice into danger; and because I
always felt that you belonged a little to me, I begged my brother to
take you with him on that dangerous journey. It was for me, too,
Wohlfart, that you toiled in that foreign land; and when you stood by
the loaded wagons, amid fire and clash of arms that fearful night, they
were my goods that you were saving; and so, my friend, I come to you now
in the character of a merchant, and pray you to do me a service. You
shall look over an account for me."

"I will," said Anton, turning away, "but not at this moment."

Sabine went to a book-case, and laid out two books, with gilt leaves and
green morocco binding, on the desk. Then taking Anton by the hand, she
said, in a trembling voice, "Please come and look at my Debit and
Credit." She opened the first volume. Beneath all manner of skillful
flourishes stood the words, "With God--Private Ledger of T. O. Schroeter."

Anton started back. "It is the private book of the firm," cried he.
"This is a mistake."

"It is no mistake," said Sabine. "I want you to look over it."

"Impossible!" cried Anton. "Neither you nor your brother can seriously
wish this. God forbid that any one should venture to do so but the heads
of the concern. So long as a firm lasts, thes