"Herr Hoffman?"
"Yes."
"I want work."
"So? What can you do?" He was a clean youngster, this, but there was
something in his eyes that vaguely disturbed the head vintner. It was
like mockery more than anything else. The youth recounted his abilities,
and Hoffman was gracious enough to admit that he seemed to know what he
was talking about.
"I have a letter to you also."
"_Ach!_ We shall be properly introduced now," said Hoffman, growling.
"Let me see it."
He saw it, but with starting eyes. There was, then, something new under
the sun? A picker of grapes, recommended by a princess! He turned the
letter inside out, but found no illumination.
"_Du lieber Gott!_ You are Leopold Dietrich?"
"Yes, Herr."
"How did you come by this letter?"
"Her serene highness is patron to Gretchen, the goose-girl, at whose
request the recommendation was given me."
This altered matters. "Follow me," said Hoffman.
The two entered the office.
"Can you write?"
"A little, Herr."
"Then write your name on this piece of paper and that. Each night you
will present yours with the number of pounds, which will be credited to
you. You must bring it back each morning. If you lose it you will be
paid nothing for your labor."
Dietrich wrote his name twice.
Pages:
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228