"But you might accommodate a destitute mother," remarked Mrs. Wentworth. "You have refused to give me credit, and now I ask you to loan me a small sum of money, for the payment of which I offer security."
"I cannot do it," he answered. "Ven I says a ting I means it."
"Will you buy the bedstead then?" asked Mrs. Wentworth in despair.
"Vat can I do mit it?" he enquired.
"Why you can sell again," replied Mrs. Wentworth. "It will always find a purchaser, particularly now that the price of everything has increased so largely."
"Veil, I vill puy te pedstead," he said, and then enquired: "How much monish do you vant for it?"
"What will you give me?" she asked.
"I vill give you forty tollars for it," he replied.
"It must be worth more than that," she remarked. "The price of everything is so increased that it appears to me as if the bedstead should command a higher price than that offered by you."
"Shust as you like, my goot voman," Mr. Swartz remarked, shrugging his shoulders. "If you vant at mine price, all veil and goot; if not, you can leave it alone. I only puy te piece of furniture to accommodate you, and you should pe tankful."