“My poy? He didn’t not came.”
“Yes, I notice it. Why didn’t he come?”
“Maype he vas busy py something else. Yah. Vas it disappointment dot he didt not come?”
“Yes, a great disappointment,” rasped Sile. “I’m mighty sorry not to see him this morning.”
“You seem to like my poy, Carl, ain’t it? You seem to enchoy his companies vhen he comes to seen you, no? Vot vas der matter py your face?”
Sile ignored the question. “I kinder hope you’ll send Carl tomorrer morning, Mr. Duckelstein,” he said. “Yeou’re right abaout aour enjoyin’ his company.”
“Carl toldt me dot an eel didt catch him here,” said Duckelstein, a suspicious twinkle in his eyes. “Didt you at him laugh undt good sports have vhen dot eel caught him?”
“Well,” admitted Sile, grinning a little, “yeou see we couldn’t help laffin’, considerin’ the fact that it wa’n’t no eel, only an old root that got ketched on his line.”
“Vas dot correction?” said Duckelstein soberly. “Maype dot poy didt not toldt me dot. Maype he toldt me dot he peen afraidt der eels vas vaiting in der voods aroundt here to chump at him undt give him a pites. Didt you nefer see anythings around here dot at you chumped undt gafe you a pite, no?”
In spite of his efforts to refrain, Springer suddenly giggled outright, which caused Sile to flush painfully and frown in a forbidding way.