“Vot you vants down dere, any vays? Vot you dook me for?—der doctor? Well, go by your pus’ness aboud und voke ub der right barty.”
“Wake up, you thick-headed fool!” cried Charlie, quite out of patience.
“Vhy, it don’d peen you, Sharlie?” exclaimed Meyer in an astonished voice.
“Will you throw down the key of the barn?”
“Vot you vants mit der key off der barns?”
“Do you want me to come up and fire you out of the window? Throw down the key, do you hear?”
“I hear, I ped you. Vell, vait a moments und I vill drow it down.”
Charlie waited for it in a fever of impatience.
“Now, get into your clothes and come down yourself as quick as you can,” he cried to the boy, when the key flopped at his feet.
“Shimmany Christmas!” grumbled the German lad, as he watched Charlie rush to the barn with the key. “Dis vos a nice hour to voke a feller ub, I don’d dink. Off I stood it much longer I am a yackass.”