er; but he did not come.

The first day she was sad; the second, impatient; the third, restless.

"Mother, I'm going to see what's become of the little boy who was
going to write a poem."

"Do, my child!" said the mother. "Do you think you will find him?"

Femke nodded; but her nod was not convincing. She did not know where
Walter lived and was afraid to say so. It took courage to start out to
trace the child when she didn't know where he lived; and this courage
she wished to conceal. And why? Just timidity incident to the tender
feelings. Sometimes we conceal the good and boast of the bad.

The girl dressed herself as prettily as she could and put all her
money in her pocket. It was only a few stivers. She hurried through
Ash Gate and inquired where the shop was that lent books. Thus she
came directly to the Hartenstraat. She simply retraced the steps of
our hero, when he made that first sally with Glorioso.

Less timid than Walter--Femke was older, and had had more experience
with men--she asked the gruff fellow in a business-like way for
"the book about the countess with the long train or her dress."

"What? What's the title?"

"I don't know," Femke said. "It's about a robber--and the Pope's
mentioned in it, too. I am hunting for the boy who read the book. I
wanted to ask where he lives--I will pay you for your trouble."

"Do you think I'm a fool? Am I here to hunt for boys?"

"But, M'neer, I will pay you," the girl said, and laid the money on
the counter.

"Oh, get on! What do I know about your boy?"

Femke got angry now.

"I haven't done anything, and you can't run me off like that. No,
you can't. If you don't want to tell me, you needn't to. You are an
unaccommodating fellow!"

She was going to leave, when it occurred to her to ask, "And won't
you lend me a book, either?"

"Yes, you can get a book. What do you want?"

"That book about the robber and Amalia," said Femke. She felt now that
she was a "customer," and oh, how proud she had become all at once!

"I don't know anything about such a book. Do you mean Rinaldo
Rinaldini?"

"No. Is there more than one robber book? Just call over the names of
them for me."

This was said with an air of importance that was not without its effect
on the shopman. He pulled down the catalogue, and soon he came to
"Glorioso."

"That's it, that's it!" cried Femke, delighted.

"But you must deposit a forfeit," the man said, as he mounted the
ladder to get