The last named pet he kept in an old
wash tub, half full of water, and called him Percy. He used to talk to
all his pets as if they were human beings, Percy included, and many
people had ventured the opinion that his brain was not quite as good as
it should be.
"A little bit cracked, but harmless and faithful," was the way Bob's
father described him.
Bob had never seen Heinrich so upset as he was that afternoon. He put the
rolls of bills in his pocket and looked at Bob fiercely through his thick
glass spectacles. His watery blue eyes looked almost ferocious.
"What do you want here?" he demanded.
"My bicycle," said Bob.
"It iss got a puncture," said Heinrich.
"Oh, Heinrich," Bob exclaimed. "Why didn't you fix it?"
"I had no time so far."
"I need a new one anyway," said Bob, looking at his wheel where it rested
against the wall of the garage. "This one is six years old."
"It iss one bunch of junk," said Heinrich.
"Right you are," laughed Bob. "I tell you what, Heinrich; you've got a
lot of money now, why don't you buy me a new one for my birthday?"
"Dot iss my money," said Heinrich insistently.
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