"And it has no stripes!" cried the tailor.
"Wait awhile," said a man standing behind the table, in German, but with a strange sounding foreign accent, "it will soon have some."
"Stripes!" said the brewer, surprised.
"Ahem!" nodded the stranger; "but wont you have something to drink?" he continued, getting out some glasses. "What do you take, brandy, whisky, cider, wine, beer."
"Beer! by all means," said the brewer.
"No," declared the shoemaker, "I won't have anything to drink—six cents for such a sight as that, and six more cents for a drink! No; to stand that I must have stolen my money, and found my box again!"
"The drinking costs thee no more," the barman declared.
"Why do you 'thee' and 'thou'[3] me, then?" asked the shoemaker, somewhat nettled.
"Thou speakest so prettily, how else shall I call thee?"
The shoemaker was about to make some angry reply, but the little tailor poked him in the ribs, and said, "Don't be a fool, but let him talk in his own fashion—he says the drinking is to cost nothing."