She stopped and turned back to him.
"You will?"
"Sprechen sie Deutsch, Minna?"
"Ja—yes—why not? I should think I do. I always could. Why couldn't I?"
She went on her mission, grumbling pettishly. Why shouldn't she speak her own language? What did the man think? He must be a joker!
"Mamma!" Herman called again. "Git also the young one some that apfel kuchen. You make it awful good."
"Yes," called Minna from the bar. "I git it. For why wouldn't I speak my own language, I like to know?"
Dave Cowan's jest was smouldering faintly within her. She returned presently with the stein of beer and a glass of milk, and went, still muttering, for the food that had been commanded. She returned with this, setting bread and butter and cheese before them, and a blue plate whose extensive area was all but covered with apple cake, but now she no longer muttered in bewilderment. She confronted the jester, hands upon hips, her doll eyes shining with triumph.
"Hah! Now, mister, I ask you something good like you ask me. You git ready! Sprechen sie English?"
Dave Cowan affected to be overcome with confusion, while Minna laughed loud and long at her sally. Herman laughed with her, his head back and huge red beard lifted from his chest.