Upon one of the horses hitched to the machine, her hands gripped tightly upon the harness of the collar, Hilda, his little daughter, with her small, hob-nailed boots and boy's canvas overalls, sat, exalted and petrified with ecstasy and excitement, her eyes wide opened, her hair in a tangle.
"Hello, Bismarck," said Annixter, drawing up beside him.

"What are YOU doing here?
I thought the Governor was going to manage without his tenants this year." "Ach, Meest'r Ennixter," cried the other, straightening up.

"Ach, dat's you, eh?
Ach, you bedt he doand menege mitout me.

Me, I gotta stay.
I talk der straighd talk mit der Governor.

I fix 'em.