"Step in, sir."
So I walked in--everything old--old furniture, old pictures--worm-eaten, but cosy.
I heard some one begin to curse and swear in the adjoining room.
"The dirty blackguard--the impudence of him--always was a friend of that Pütz, the cur!"
"Pleasant reception," I thought.
Women's voices joined in.
"Papa, papa!"
"Good Lord! All right! All right!"
Then he came in--gentlemen, if I hadn't just heard it with my own ears!--holding out his hands, his old sinner's face beaming, his dachs eyes blinking slily, but with a beam of pleasure in them.
"My dear sir, delighted."