"
"Er--what I came over to say, is that I've got some fine bulbs,
myself, this year, particularly fine bulbs--eh, Schmetz?--and more
than I need for myself. Will you share them with me, Miss Smith?
Please! I--well, I'd be really grateful if you would," said this
overgrown boy.
"We'll be enchanted," Alicia said instantly. "When can we have
them, please?"
"Now!" cried the doctor, with brightening eyes. "By jingo, I'll get
'em this minute, and plant 'em for you, too!"
And he did. He was on his knees, trowel in hand, shouting to
Riedriech, who had come outside for a few minutes' happy arguing
with his good friend the doctor, that the socialist argument boiled
down amounts to about this--that one should do without boiled eggs
for breakfast now, in order that the proletariat may have baked hen
for dinner in the millennium; which is lunacy; anybody with a
modicum of brains--
"Brains!" snorted Riedriech. "What is it you know about brains? _No_
doctor knows what is on the inside of brains! You make tinkerings
mit the inside plumbings, _Gott bewahre_! and cut up womens and cats
and such-like poor little dumb beasts and says you, 'Now I know all
about the brains of man.
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