“All in good time, little un; all in good time: the first thing now is breakfast for our good old visitor.”
“Ah, we’ll have another spoonful of coffee in the pot this morning, Joe.”
The old trader met them at breakfast and smiled as he shook hands.
“Ach ten!” he cried, “but you haf geschlafen wohl, mein vrient. Der beace of mind is a goot ding. You are besser. You need not speak, for your eyes are delling me all der dime what dey dink, bube.”
“I’m sure he’s better,” said Dyke eagerly.
“Und he vill zoon be guite himselfs again. I zee you half been do mein oxen, Van Dyke.”
“Oh yes, I had a look at them; they were feeding well.”
“Ja; die poys dell me zo. Now I go do ask you do let me shday dill do-morrow, und den die peasts vill pe rested, und I go on again.”
“Don’t hurry, Herr Morgenstern,” said Emson. “You and I must have a long talk about—about—”
“Die shdones? Nein, mein good vrient, you go do zay you must share zom mid me, but I zhall dake none. Look at me: I am zeventy jahrs alt, und I have blenty do leave my old vomans ven I die, zo should I dake what vill do you zo much good?”