“What!”
“Yes. His father used to print things. They will tell us.” And so, without stopping to eat, the two hurried off to the Bremer family; and mother and father and all the children sat and listened in astonishment while Samuel told his tale. Friedrich was thrilling with excitement; and old Johann's red face grew fiery.
“Herr Gott!” he cried. “I vas that vay myself once!”
“And then will you help me to get them printed?” asked Samuel.
“Sure!” replied the other. “I will do it myself. Vy did I go through the Commune?” And so the whole family adjourned to the attic, and the little printing outfit was dragged out from under the piles of rubbish.
“I used it myself,” said the old carpet designer. “But vhen I come here they give me a varning, and I haf not dared. For two years I haf not even been to the meetings of the local.”
“Of the what?” asked Samuel.
“I am a Socialist,” explained Mr. Bremer. And Samuel gave a start. Ought he to accept any help from Socialists? But meantime Friedrich was sorting out the type, and his father was inspecting Samuel's copy.
“You must make it vith a plenty of paragraphs,” he said; “and exclamation points, too. Then they vill read it.”
“They'll read it!” said Friedrich grimly.