"Choe," he remarked, placidly, "you are der
next Mayor off Canaan."

"Why do you say that?" asked the young man,
sharply.

"Bickoss us here," he answered, interlocking the
tips of his fingers over his waistcoat, that being as
near folding his hands as lay within his power,--
"bickoss us here shall try to fix it so, und so hef
ditcided."

Joe took a deep breath. "Why do you want me?"

"Dot," replied the brewer, "iss someding I shall
tell you." He paused to contemplate his cigar.
"We want you bickoss you are der best man fer
dot positsion."

"Louie, you mustn't make a mistake at the
beginning," Joe said, hurriedly. "I may not be the
kind of man you're looking for. If I went in--"
He hesitated, stammering. "It seems an ungrateful
thing to say, but--but there wouldn't be any
slackness--I couldn't be bound to anybody--"

"Holt up your hosses!" Mr. Farbach, once in
his life, was so ready to reply that he was able to
interrupt. "Who hef you heert speak off bounding?
Hef I speakt off favors? Dit I say der shoult