"You don't know how she wo-rks," sobbed August.

"I know more soh mudge as der grossest liddle fool as you," cried Mr.
Sieppe, fiercely, his face purple.

"You must give it sh--shove!" exclaimed the boy.

"Den he eggsplode, idiot!" shouted his father. All at once the boiler of
the steamer blew up with a sharp crack. The little tin toy turned over
and sank out of sight before any one could interfere.

"Ah--h! Yah! Yah!" yelled August. "It's go-one!"

Instantly Mr. Sieppe boxed his ears. There was a lamentable scene.
August rent the air with his outcries; his father shook him till his
boots danced on the jetty, shouting into his face:

"Ach, idiot! Ach, imbecile! Ach, miserable! I tol' you he eggsplode.
Stop your cry. Stop! It is an order. Do you wish I drow you in der
water, eh? Speak. Silence, bube! Mommer, where ist mein stick? He will
der grossest whippun ever of his life receive."

Little by little the boy subsided, swallowing his sobs, knuckling his
eyes, gazing ruefully at the spot where the boat had sunk. "Dot is
better soh," commented Mr. Sieppe, finally releasing him. "Next dime
berhaps you will your fat'er better pelief. Now, no more. We will
der glams ge-dig, Mommer, a fire. Ach, himmel! we have der pfeffer
forgotten."