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"I don't keep moofers to mine tafern," said the landlord, putting his abundant charge into his pocket. "Chay-Te, he always stops here. He coes all ofer te countries, Chay-Te toes. His headt ist pat." "But his heart is good," said the grandmother. "And that will count up more to his credit than if he was an extortioner, and ill-treated the stranger within his gate."
I don't keep moofers mit te tafern." Robert and Corinne felt very homeless as she drove at a rattling pace down the valley. They were hungry, and upon an unknown road; and that inhospitable tavern had turned them away like vagrants. "We'll drive all night before we'll stop in his movers' pen," said Grandma Padgett with her well-known decision.
"Oh, nein," said the tavern-keeper mildly. "I don't keep moofers mit my house. Dey goes a little furter." "You don't keep movers!" said Grandma Padgett indignantly. "What's your tavern for?" "Oh, yah," replied the host with undisturbed benevolence. "Dey goes a little furter." "Why have you put out a sign to mislead folks?" The tavern keeper took the pipe out of his mouth to look up at his sign.
It swayed back and forth in the valley breeze, as if itself expostulating with him. "Dot's a goot sign," he pronounced. "Auf you go up te hill, tere ist te house I put up mit te moofers. First house. All convenient. You sthay tere. I coom along in te mornin'. Tere ist more as feefty famblies sthop mit tat house. Oh, nien, I don't keep moofers mit te tafern."
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