"You most decidedly are not," MacDonald assured him.
"You vill for repates no longer ask, yet?" persisted Mr. Damrosch.
"Not on your life!" replied the dispatcher earnestly, beginning to see daylight. "That's all off. We'll apologize, too, if you like. I promise you, we are quite willing to apologize."
"Vell, den," announced Mr. Damrosch, "ve vill aggravate"—and he slammed the door in MacDonald's face.
"Oh, hold on, Dutchy!" cried MacDonald piteously, for he was very hungry. "What did you say?"
"Vat I said iss dot ve vill aggravate!" shouted Dutchy from the other side of the door. "Dot iss English, don'd it? Aggravate!"
"He means arbitrate," prompted Thornley from the platform.
"Oh, all right!" said MacDonald. "We'll agree to that, Dutchy. Come onopen up!"
"I vill not mit you aggra—arra—do it—hang dot vord!" Dutchy asserted decisively, but again opening the door. "But mit Mister Brett I vill do it."
"But Mr. Brett isn't here, you know that," retorted MacDonald, beginning to get exasperated. "And, what's more, he won't be back until the day after to-morrow. I guess you know that, too, don't you?"
Dutchy smiled a patient, chiding smile. "Dot iss too bad," he remarked regretfully. "But dot Thorn-
