They made another attempt, without any further interruption, and, while their cheeks puffed out, and they got red in their faces, no one could tell what tune they were playing.
Dragonfel from the throne silently motioned to Grouthead who went out, and returned a few seconds later with a tray on which were four tiny glasses of ginger ale.
Jacob Schnittger turned and saw him, and then rushed to help himself to one of the glasses of ginger ale. A moment later Hermann Sweinskopf followed his example, and then Peter Dinkelspeil. Louie Knobloch suddenly noticed his companions preparing to refresh themselves, and made a frantic dash to join them. That left only Emil Muller, the leader, playing. He looked around to find out what was the matter, and then sprinted toward Grouthead, but there was no ginger ale left on the tray. He stood with ill-concealed envy watching the other four who were clinking their glasses hilariously. Then the quartet began to sing:
“‘Halli, hallo, halli, hallo;
Bei uns geht’s immer,
Je langer je schlimmer;
Halli, hallo, halli, hallo,
Bei uns geht’s immer noch so!’”
“Prosit, leater!” said Louie Knobloch mockingly, as he lifted his glass, with the other three facing around and following suit.
Emil Muller was speechless. He kicked his heels together as he watched them drinking and smacking their lips. Dragonfel again signalled to Grouthead who went out, and came back bearing an immense glass of ginger ale upon the tray.
Emil Muller swooped down upon it exultingly, and with great difficulty held it aloft. The others of the band gathered around in awe, while Louie Knobloch stood on tiptoe to obtain a better view of the glass. Emil Muller blew the froth into Louie’s face, and the latter wiped it off with his fingers, afterwards putting them in his mouth, as though even small favors sometimes count.
“Do you know vot dot man Vilhelm Shake-a-sbeare vonct saidt?” he asked.
“No,” replied Louie Knobloch, wiping the froth from his eyes. “Vot dit he say?”