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"Railroads, his father, aind't it?" said the German. "Yep. That and mines and lumber and shipping. Built one place at San Diego, the old man has; another at Los Angeles; owns half a dozen railroads, half the lumber on the Pacific slope, and lets his wife spend the money," the Philadelphian went on lazily. "The West don't suit her, she says.
"She hadn't ought to told me those quarters she put in that box was mine, when they was to pay the gas man." Mrs. Kranz eyed the complainant shrewdly. "Why vor shouldt you pe paid vor he'pin' your mamma yedt?" she asked. "You vouldn't haf gone from school home yedt undt helped her, if it hadn't been for vat she toldt you about de money. You vorked for de money every time aind't idt?"
The accent he possessed at thirty was with him in all its pristine effulgence at eighty-five. "Nopody vould know I vas a Cherman aind't it?" he used to say. He spoke French, a dash of Spanish, and could parley in Choctaw, Ottawa, Mohawk and Huron. But they who speak several languages must not be expected to speak any one language well. Yet when John Jacob wrote, it was English without a flaw.
He said: "I fell back to de rear, by dat plantation where de cotton gin was burning, to see if I couldn't get a canteen of buttermilk to wash de dust outen my froat, when dat Dutch Noo Jersey gang come along, and de boss he said, 'nicker, you got back ahead fere you pelong, or I gick you in de pack mit a saber, aind't it, and when I get on my mule to come along he grab de boots and he say, 'nicker, dot boots is better for me, and when I was going to take dem away from him he stick me in de pants wid a saber.
He pointed a finger straight at Nickie, lurched towards him, crossed the room in a stagger, and drove his inquiring digit against the mysterious visitor. The mysterious visitor was solid. Schmitz was beaten. "Sharlie," he said, "is it true dot you vos, or is it true dot you aind't?" Nickie offered him the bottle in a friendly way, and Schmitz took it and drank.
The accent he possessed at thirty was with him in all its pristine effulgence at eighty-five. "Nopody vould know I vas a Cherman aind't it?" he used to say. He spoke French, a dash of Spanish and could parley in Choctaw, Ottawa, Mohawk and Huron. But they who speak several languages must not be expected to speak any one language well. Yet when John Jacob wrote it was English without a flaw.
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