"Well, I didn't know that; you didn't tell me, an' so I registered you from here."
Hoffmann's pink cheeks became red. He folded his coat neatly over his arm.
"Vatch here, Schleger," he began. "I ain't no politician. I don't care——"
But he bit his lip and mastered himself to silence.
The proprietor saw this and appreciated the self-control that it manifested. There had been a time when he had felt as Hermann felt now, and so he was not disposed to use harsh argument. He came close to Hoffmann and, still smiling, dropped his voice to a whisper.
"That's all right," he said, soothingly. "I guess I know how you look at it. Don't say that I said so, but we'll let the matter drop if you only lay low a little and keep quiet. You know the brewery's backin' me in this saloon, an' you know, with the brewery pushin' me all the time for its money, I couldn't run the place a month if I didn't keep the side-door open Sundays. Well, then, how could I keep the place workin' Sundays if it wasn't for O'Malley? Just try not to be openly again' him, that's all."
Hermann did not commit himself, but his tone had softened when, in reply, he asked:
"Und should I take to-night off?"
"Certainly you should. Go along now, an' ferget it."
He went, but as he walked down the avenue, "Die Wacht Am Rhein" issued from his lips to the time of a funeral-march.