"What do you want here?" he demanded.
"My bicycle," said Bob.
"It iss got a puncture," said Heinrich.
"Oh, Heinrich," Bob exclaimed. "Why didn't you fix it?"
"I had no time so far."
"I need a new one anyway," said Bob, looking at his wheel where it rested against the wall of the garage. "This one is six years old."
"It iss one bunch of junk," said Heinrich.
"Right you are," laughed Bob. "I tell you what, Heinrich; you've got a lot of money now, why don't you buy me a new one for my birthday?"
"Dot iss my money," said Heinrich insistently.
"Of course it is," exclaimed Bob. "You don't suppose I thought for a moment that you stole it, do you?"