"Infamous Jew rascal!" said Slusuhr, shifting his position again,--"aw! thunder!--do you think we cannot manage that for ourselves? Yes, Herr Pomuchelskopp, I would sell, for if they don't tear your house down they might get at the barns, and the potato middens."
"Well, Herr Notary, what will you do?" asked David. "You have some money; you might manage a farm-house, or a mill, but for an estate like that? You must come to my father."
"Your father? When he hears that it is for Pomuchelskopp, he will say: 'Cash down!' We three are not in very high credit with him."
"If I tell him----" began David, but just then the doctor came in, the father of the little assessor.
"Good morning! You sent for me?" turning to Slusuhr, "you wanted to see me?"
"Ah, Herr Doctor, you were at the ball last night. Oh, my bruises! You must surely have heard----"
"He got a beating," said David, "I am a witness he was dreadfully abused."
"Will you hold your cursed tongue?" cried Slusuhr. "Herr Doctor, I wish you would examine me medically; I fear I shall never recover the use of my limbs."
Without more words, the doctor went up to the patient, and removed the shirt from his shoulders, and there was much to be read there which is not usually seen on a pair of shoulders, and the inscription was written in red ink, in the largest capitals. Pomuchelskopp sat there, with folded hands, in the deepest melancholy, but when he saw the inscription on the notary's back, a very comfortable expression dawned in his face, and David sprung up, exclaiming, "Good heavens! How he looks! Herr Doctor, I will let you examine me too; carpenter Schultz dragged me out from under the table, and tore my new dress-coat."
"Send for the tailor!" said the doctor quietly, and turning to the notary: "I will leave a certificate for you, with Grammelin. Good morning, gentlemen!"