“But we owe everything to you.”
“Nein. It ist not zo. You have work hart, und you have got your goot dimes ad last. You keep vot you haf found. I zhall dake noding bood die hant of mein vrients.”
“Oh, but you ought to have a good share, Herr Morgenstern,” cried Dyke.
“Ach ten! what for you go shpeak like dot, you bube. You wand to make me gross, und get in a big passion. Tunder! No, I vill dot dake von shingle shdone. You shpeak again, I go away in a gross anger. Aha! you see, mein vrient Yoseph, I zoon zed die dot imbudend bube, who go to shpoil my breakfass. I do not wand my breakfass shpoil. You oondershtan. You say diamont again, I gall my poys, und inspan und go away.”
He frowned, as if he meant all he said, went on eating fiercely for a few moments, and then with his mouth full:
“I have blenty,” he cried, “und I am glad you have blendy, doo. Now, von vort, von leedle vort, und I haf done. You dake a long shdocking und pud die shdones in, and den you vind all you gan. You make mooch as you gan before die beoble gom. It is got to be know dot dere are blenty diamonts in der veldt, und tousands und tousands gom to vind. Vell, you are virst; you pick oop all you gan pefore dey gom, und nopody know, for you shoot oop your mouth and hold your dongue. Wise man don’t cry ‘Look here!’ when he vind. He go und vind again, eh? Dot is all, und I have enshoy der bess breakfass I effer vas haf.”
“But, really, Morgenstern.”
“Oof! I am going to get in soch a big passion!” roared the old man furiously. “I gom here und vind you all down in die doomps. I gif you vizzick do make you shdrong, und I dell you you are ridge mans; und now you vill not led me haf any beace. I haf not mooch hair left upon mein het: do you vant me to dear it all oud; zo as mein old vomans zhall nod know me when I go pack?”
“No, no, no; but—”
“Nod anoder vort. I am going to shmoke mein bibe.—Ah, you bube, Van Dyke, you laugh pecause I preak him last night! You dink I haf nod god anoder? Ha, ha! I haf god zigs, und one made of wood zo as he gannod preak.—Now, mein tear vrient Yoseph Emzon, led me rest und enshoy myself.—You bube, go und dell dot plack vomans do gook me a goot tinner. I zhall go und shmoke mein bibe und shdudy close long, shdupid-looking pirts, und you gan both gom und dalk do me.”