“It shall be done,” said Simon Agricola; so Babo paid back the money, and the doctor dipped the woman in the water. When he brought her out she was as well and strong as ever--but just as old as she had been before. “Now be off for a pair of scamps, both of you,” said the blacksmith; “and if you ever come this way again, I’ll set all the dogs in the town upon you.” Simon Agricola said nothing until they had come out upon the highway again, and left the town well behind them; then--“Born a fool, live a fool, die a fool!” says he. Babo said nothing, but he rubbed the places where the smith had dusted his coat. The fourth day of their journey they came to a town, and here Simon Agricola was for trying his tricks of magic again. He and Babo took up their stand in the corner of the market-place, and began bawling, “Doctor Knowall! Doctor Knowall! Who has come from the other end of Nowhere! He can cure any sickness or pain! He can bring you back from the gates of death! Here is Doctor Knowall! Here is Doctor Knowall!” Now there was a very, very rich man in that town, whose daughter lay sick to death; and when the news of this great doctor was brought to his ears, he was for having him try his hand at curing the girl. “Very well,” said Simon Agricola, “I will do that, but you must pay me two thousand golden angels.” “Two thousand golden angels!” said the rich man; “that is a great deal of money, but you shall have it if only you will cure my daughter.” Simon Agricola drew a little vial from his bosom. From it he poured just six drops of yellow liquor upon the girl’s tongue. Then--lo and behold!--up she sat in bed as well and strong as ever, and asked for a boiled chicken and a dumpling, by way of something to eat. “Bless you! Bless you!” said the rich man. “Yes, yes; blessings are very good, but I would like to have my two thousand golden angels,” said Simon Agricola. “Two thousand golden angels! I said nothing about two thousand golden angels,” said the rich man; “two thousand fiddlesticks!” said he. “Pooh! Pooh! You must have been dreaming! See, here are two hundred silver pennies, and that is enough and more than enough for six drops of medicine.” “I want my two thousand golden angels,” said Simon Agricola. “You will get nothing but two hundred pennies,” said the rich man. “I won’t touch one of them,” said Simon Agricola, and off he marched in a huff. But Babo had kept his eyes open. Simon Agricola had laid down the vial upon the table, and while they were saying this and that back and forth, thinking of nothing else, Babo quietly slipped it into his own pocket, without any one but himself being the wiser. Down the stairs stumped the doctor with Babo at his heels. There stood the cook waiting for them. “Look,” said he, “my wife is sick in there; won’t you cure her, too?” “Pooh!” said Simon Agricola; and out he went, banging the door behind him.