He gafe me der refusal--dot is, he
sait I gouldn't haf dem--but he sait he vould gall on me und see mine
schtore, und den if mine schtanding in peesnis vas goot, berhaps ve
might do somedings togedder.
Veil, I vas behind mine gounter yesterday, ven a shentle-man gomes in
and dakes me py der hant and says, "Mr. Schmidt, I pelieve." I says,
"Yaw," und den I tinks to mine-self, dis vas der man vot has doze
goots to sell, und I must dry to make some goot imbressions mit him,
so ve gould do some peesnis.
"Dis vas goot schtore," he says, looking roundt, "bud you don't got a
pooty big shtock already." I vas avraid to let him know dot I only
hat 'bout a tousand tollars vort of goots in der blace, so I says,
"You ton't tink I hat more as dree tousand tollars in dis leedle
schtore, vould you?" He says, "You ton't tole me! Vos dot bossible!"
I says, "Yaw."
I meant dot id vas bossible, dough id vasn't so, vor I vas like
'Shorge Vashingtons ven he cut town der "olt elm" on Poston Gommons
mit his leedle hadchet, and gouldn't dell some lies aboud id.
"Veil," says der shentleman, "I dinks you ought to know petter as
anypody else vot you haf got in der schtore." Und den he takes a pig
book vrom unter his arm and say, "Veil, I poots you town vor dree
tousand tollars.
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