air my shop is always full, so I cannot leave it to go with you."

The young lawyer took a five-florin note out of his pocket.

"I don't want you to do it for nothing, Mrs. Muencz, but I must see the
umbrellas at any price. So let me go up alone to the loft, and please
take this in return for your kindness."

Mrs. Muencz did not take the money, and her small black eyes examined the
young man suspiciously.

"Now I shall certainly not show you the umbrellas."

"And why not?"

"My poor dead husband used to say: 'Rosalia, never do anything you don't
understand the reason of,' and my husband was a very clever man."

"Of course, of course, you are quite right, and can't understand why I
offer five florins for an old ragged umbrella."

"Just so; for five florins you might see something better."

"Well, it is very simple after all. My father had a very old umbrella,
to which he was much attached, and I heard that it had come by chance
into your husband's hands, and I should very much like to have it as a
souvenir."

"And who was your father, sir? Perhaps I may have heard of him."

The lawyer blushed a little.

"Pal Gregorics," he said.

"Ah, Gregorics! Wait a bit! Yes, I remember, the funny little man in
whose will ..."

"Yes, yes. He left 2000 florins to nine ladies in Besztercebanya."

--"I remember, but I don't think he was ..."

"Yes ... no ... of course not ... I mean ..." and here he stopped in
confusion. "I am Gyuri Wibra, lawyer."

Now it was Mrs. Muencz's turn to be confused.

"Of course, sir, I understand. How stupid of me! I have heard of you,
sir, and I knew your poor father; dear me, how very like him you are,
and yet so handsome. I knew him _very_ well," she added, smiling,
"though he did not leave me 2000 florins. I was an old woman when he was
still young. Well, sir, please go up and look at the umbrellas. I will
show you the way, and tell you just where to look for them. Follow me,
please, and I hope you will find the old gentleman's umbrella."

"I would give you fifty florins for it, Mrs. Muencz."

At the words "fifty florins" the old woman's eyes shone like two
glowworms.

"Oh! what a good son!" she sighed, turning her eyes up to heaven.
"There is nothing more pleasing to God than a good son, who honors the
memory of his father."

She got quite active and lively at the thought of the fifty florins, and
shutting the door of the shop, she tripped across the yard with Gyuri to
the lad