“You must come back soon,” he said. “You must come down as soon as you have played something for the grandfather.”
“Didn’t you hear what your father said, Russli?” retorted Vinzi. “I have to do what the grandfather wants me to. I’ll have to stay all morning if he wishes me to.”
“Then I’ll tickle the cows again,” Russli asserted grimly.
“That is wicked of you, Russli,” cried out Vinzi full of indignation. “I always thought that you were a nice boy. Didn’t I stay with you all the time and tell you all sorts of stories? Didn’t I play for you as much as ever you wanted me to? I never believed Faz when he told me naughty things about you and now I find that what I thought untrue was true after all. Do you know what I am going to do? I’ll stay with Jos and Faz from now on and you can stay by yourself and I’ll never come near you any more.”
“Then I won’t do it,” said Russli, half obstinately and half repentantly.
“That’s right, Russli,” said Vinzi, already reconciled, “and I’ll promise to cut you something on the way every time I leave you. What do you want? A walking stick?”
“No,” came the decided answer.
“Do you want a flag-pole?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”